The Good Son
by pamlin
Summary: A prehistoric beast that's not prehistoric... A dead man, who's not dead... And is Bishop a good guy or a bad guy? This is NOT a sequel to Pem Redivivus, though it is in the same timeline. Several of my stories already posted here have furthered Bishop's storyline, but you don't necessarily have to have read those to get this one. Not mine, and I'm not making any money. Thanks!
1. Chapter 1

The Good Son

Riley flashed his light around the cave in awe, as he dropped the regulator from his mouth. "This place is crazy, Mr. Morton!" He pulled himself out of the water. "We're underwater, and look at this! How is this possible?" He turned as the XO climbed out of the water and looked around.

"We're above the water level in here, Riley." Mr. Morton shone his flashlight toward the back of the cave. "But when the tide comes in, this place is probably underwater." The flashlight's beam reflected off a pool of water at the back of the cave. "Looks like there may be more caves beyond this one." He strode briskly toward the water, and Riley followed behind him, targeting the cave walls with his light.

"Limestone, right, Mr. Morton?" He guessed at the construction of the cave from the porous rock of the cave walls.

"Basalt, most likely. Littoral caves this size usually form in basalt."

Riley blinked at the words. Littoral? Man, that was one weird word. "Uh… Littoral, sir?"

He could have sworn that Mr. Morton was trying not to smile. "A sea cave, Riley."

Oh… Well, that made sense. Riley looked down at the floor of the cave, noticing the rocks studded around. He picked one up and looked at it, interested by the tiny shells that studded it. Maybe something in here would interest the admiral, so he wouldn't yell when they came back without brain coral… "Are these basalt, too?" He thrust the rock under Mr. Morton's nose as the XO turned to look.

Mr. Morton blinked and took a step back from the rock. "No… That one's limestone. May have washed in." He took the rock from Riley and turned it carefully in his hands. "Limestone sometimes carries fossils. We might find something interesting if we look around."

Riley nodded and immediately began exploring, cocking an ear toward the XO. Mr. Morton would let the boat and the other diving party know where they were first.

"Morton to Seaview. Do you read me?"

Yup. Riley smiled to himself. Man, the XO was so predictable. You could set your watch by him. Of course, nobody said that was a bad thing. There was a reason why the crews of other boats sometimes referred to Seaview's command team as Madness and Method. The skipper was Madness, going off on a wild hare a lot of the time, always thinking outside the box and making it work. But Mr. Morton was Method personified, going solidly by the book whenever possible. It wasn't that he couldn't think outside the box, because, man, when he had to, he absolutely could give the skipper a run for his money… But Mr. Morton preferred the tried and true. He was the one who grounded the crew in the midst of the chaos, while the skipper was the one who pulled the fat out of the fire.

His flashlight beam caught a rock a few inches from him, and he squatted down to look at it. Man, this was one wild rock. Some sea creature from millions of years ago was fossilized within it, but it wasn't like anything Riley had ever seen before. Long and conical, it had a series of arcs running through it, and came to a point at both ends. Only the shell of a sea creature, he knew, since the soft parts usually didn't fossilize… But what kind of weird, crazy thing was it? He picked it up and took it to Mr. Morton.

"… littoral cave at the north shore. We're above the tide level at the moment." Mr. Morton scowled at the rock Riley presented, but continued talking to the boat. "We have about forty minutes of air left. We'll explore here and start back in about twenty minutes. Any word from Lee and Ski?"

"They're about a mile from you, sir. Nothing interesting reported from them. I'll tell them what your situation is. They may want to come take a look."

"Roger, Seaview. They're very welcome." Mr. Morton signed off and glared at the rock that Riley still held inches from his nose. "Riley…"

"What's this, sir?" Riley jumped right in, hoping to distract the XO; one thing he didn't need right now was a disgruntled officer ready to tear a strip off him. Or worse, give that glare that could freeze the blood. Man, Mr. Morton could make the temperature drop with that glare of his, and it was cold enough in this cave.

Mr. Morton heaved an exasperated sigh and took the rock from Riley. "Limestone," he said, rather less than patiently, but broke off when Riley's flashlight revealed the fossil. "That's a nice orthoceras, there. Good eye, Riley."

"Orthoceras?" It never ceased to amaze Riley that for someone so square, the XO was so smart. Almost as smart as Admiral Nelson… Of course, nobody on earth was as smart as Admiral Nelson, but Mr. Morton knew a powerful lot of stuff.

"A prehistoric nautiloid. That's an ancient nautilus to you, Riley." Again, the smile was in his voice, as if he knew Riley needed the plain talk, and not those fancy words he and the admiral and the skipper tossed around. But it was a kind smile; Mr. Morton wasn't making fun of him, just making it easier for him to understand.

Riley looked at the fossil again. This thing didn't look anything like a nautilus. It didn't have a curved shell for one thing. The nautiluses he was familiar with had lovely curved shells, works of art, really. This one stretched out straight to a pointy tip. He knew that it was the creature that had lived inside that shell that was the nautilus, but still… "Crazy!" He took the fossil back and put it carefully into a sample bag, then returned to his search, hoping to find something else cool.

As he searched, he kept his eye on Mr. Morton, because Chief Sharkey would probably behead him or something if anything happened to the XO. The COB tended to be a little over-protective. He acted like the officers were children who couldn't even look after themselves. If Patterson hadn't been on watch, Riley might not even have gotten to dive this time around. He was glad of the chance, but all things considered, he'd rather have been partnered with the captain. Mr. Morton made him nervous. He'd seen that frosty glare a little too often, and man, he really didn't want to see it again… The XO was actually pretty easy to work for and all, square, but cool, but man, he could make you feel about an inch tall, when you messed up. Riley really tried not to mess up, but sometimes he got a little too exuberant, and things didn't quite go as he'd planned…

The chief didn't help matters any; if Mr. Morton got mad and glared, then the chief got mad and yelled. Sometimes the chief got mad and yelled, even when no one else was mad… Oh, he was all right, the chief, but he had high expectations. That wasn't a bad thing, all things considered, but his thing about looking after the officers… Man, what was that about? Okay, sure the skipper was kind of a trouble magnet, and the admiral had a number of bad-ass enemies, but Mr. Morton was sane and practical and safe. He never got into trouble. Well, okay there was that thing with Dr. Kelly, but no one had expected that. And then, too, there was Admiral Lura, but man, that guy was some kind of sadist or something... The XO couldn't be blamed for that.

But on a routine dive for a bunch of weird brain coral that they couldn't even find? No one was likely to get into trouble here!

Mr. Morton had moved to the back of the cave where that pool of water was. Riley watched his light sweep across the back wall and floor of the cave, gleaming off the still water. After a moment, he crouched down, reaching for a large rock that lay half in the pool. Realizing that he'd found something, Riley edged closer, hoping to see what. He couldn't resist asking. "What you got, sir?"

Mr. Morton glanced at him, and Riley was surprised to see puzzlement in those frosty blue eyes. "I'm not sure. I don't recognize it."

Man, oh, man… It must be big then. Riley edged closer, and looked at the rock illuminated in the beam. It held the imprint of what could only be an enormous tentacle. The suckers were clearly visible, and each carried the imprint of a wicked little spiky hook in the center. Whatever this thing had been it was one crazy sea monster. "Some kind of octopus, sir?" Riley really hoped it was an octopus. He'd never heard of a fossil octopus… But he'd never heard of an orthoceras either. "Want me to bag it, sir?"

"More likely some kind of squid." Mr. Morton didn't sound like he was one hundred percent certain though, which meant he might be wrong, and it might be an octopus. "Odd for the soft tissue to be so well-preserved…" He handed the fossil to Riley. The sailor reverently lowered it into a heavy-weight sample bag. It had already passed one major litmus test: Mr. Morton didn't recognize it. If the admiral didn't know what it was either, then maybe they had a brand new prehistoric creature. Maybe they'd even name it after the admiral!

"Do you think Admiral Nelson will know what it is, sir?"

Mr. Morton sighed. "I couldn't say, Riley." He rose and walked along the edge of the pool of water, looking for more fossils. They weren't supposed to be fossil hunting, but there wasn't much else to do in here, and they hadn't found any of the brain corals that the admiral was looking for. An unknown prehistoric fossil might just appease the admiral when they came back coral-less. At least, Riley hoped so… Because if it didn't, the admiral would yell. And nobody could yell like the admiral could. At least, if that happened, it would be the skipper and Mr. Morton taking the brunt of it. And they seldom got all hot and bothered by it. Mr. Morton would just stand there calmly and take it. The skipper, now he might yell back a bit, but more likely he'd just make a joke, and start everyone laughing, and before you knew it, the admiral would be smiling too…

He turned away to hunt for more fossils. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the water start to bubble and boil, as if something were moving below the surface. He gave a hesitant warning, not sure what it was. "Mr. Morton…"

But Mr. Morton had already noticed it, and stepped back from the water's edge. The water splashed outwards, vigorously roiling with the motion. Man, whatever was under there was big. Mr. Morton retreated some more and trained his flashlight on the pool. Riley's own flashlight beam lanced toward the spot as well, and the two of them studied the surface of the pool, hoping for a glimpse of the creature beneath.

Something broke the surface, arrowed upward then flopped down on the cave floor, just a little too close to Mr. Morton for Riley's comfort. He edged a little closer to the XO, noting that Mr. Morton was prudently moving a bit farther away. The thing flopping on the dusty floor of the cave looked like a tentacle and acted like a hand searching blindly for something. Mr. Morton waved Riley back with a sharp command, but didn't get the chance to retreat himself before the questing tentacle curled suddenly around his leg and pulled. The XO slammed down against the hard floor with a surprised cry, followed by a grunt of pain. He dropped his flashlight, and the bulb shattered, leaving only Riley's light piercing through the gloom. Mr. Morton jerked out his diving knife, hacking at the tentacle. Riley scurried forward, pulling out his own knife, but trying to keep his light on the struggle in front of him. "Sir…"

More tentacles boiled outward from the water, seizing Mr. Morton unerringly, wrapping around legs and torso, and dragging him toward the water. He slashed at them furiously, but snapped an order at Riley. "Stay back! Don't let it…" He broke off with a cry, and Riley heard the crack as bones gave beneath the tentacles' tightening grip. Oh, man, was it one of his legs, or maybe his ribs? Riley scrambled closer – disobeying a direct order, but it couldn't be helped - and tried to hack at the tentacles, too, but his efforts were too timid. The things had wrapped so tightly that he was afraid he'd cut Mr. Morton.

The XO slid several inches toward the water, his foot sending ripples through the madly bubbling waves. Riley dropped knife and flashlight. The beam of light winked out as the flashlight crashed against the floor of the cave. Riley ignored the sudden darkness and wrapped his arms around Mr. Morton's shoulders, pulling back against the monster, but he didn't have the strength. The thing jerked against his grip hard, dragging Mr. Morton from his grasp and into the water. He could hear the XO scrabbling frantically for something, anything that would stop his slide under the madly heaving pool, but there was nothing to hold onto, and in seconds the water had swallowed him.

Riley scrambled back from the edge, heaving strangled, sobbing breaths, and covered his mouth with his hand, hoping to stifle a panicked cry. He had to get help… Maybe he could dive into the pool and see if… See what? He'd lost his flashlight and his knife… He groped around on the cave floor, but he had no idea where he'd lost them, didn't even know how close he was to the water, or if the thing would come back for him, too.

Frightened, he scampered away from the back of the cave, until he reached the entrance, his hands submerging in the cold saltwater… He could swim back to Seaview… Oh, God… What was he thinking? Mr. Morton was gone… Surely there was something he could do… He lifted his hand to his throat mike. "Skipper! Skipper, help! I've lost him…" The chief would be listening on the other end… He would know that Riley had messed up… Badly… But maybe he, too, would come to the rescue. Right now, the only thing that mattered was that the XO was gone, and they had to find him…

The answer couldn't have been long in coming but to Riley's disoriented senses it seemed to take forever. "We're nearly there, Riley. What do you mean, you've lost him? Where's Mr. Morton?"

"Something ate him…" It was the only possible explanation… Whatever that thing was it had been hungry and… Riley buried his face in his hands and tried desperately not to sob. "Something big… I don't know what…" His hands were shaking, and his voice rasped out painfully. "Skipper, hurry… Please…"


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Lee Crane erupted from the water, and nearly fell over Riley, huddled in a heap at the water's edge. The captain dropped down beside him, anxious to find out whether the seaman was injured. A quick visual check under the beam of his flashlight assured him that Riley was fine physically, if not psychologically. He spat the regulator from his mouth and snapped a stern order at the younger man, hoping to steady him a little. "Tell me what happened, Riley."

"It grabbed him, sir…" Riley's distress tore at Lee's soul, but he kept the compassion out of his face. Riley's information was more important right now. "It came up out of the water… These tentacles, they looked like the fossil. They grabbed him and I couldn't hold him… It dragged him under the water." Riley shuddered. "It was horrible, sir."

As he spoke, Kowalski heaved out of the water and shone his flashlight around the cave. The beam reflected off the water at the back of the cave, and Ski moved closer, dropping down to the cave floor a few feet from the pool. "Dive knife, sir."

Lee patted Riley's shoulder and strode across the cave to Ski's side. He recognized the knife immediately. The admiral had given both his young officers fine titanium diving knifes that held razor-sharp edges; Lee carried the twin in his own belt. A sticky black ichor coated the blade; Chip had tried to defend himself. The captain swept his flashlight across the cave floor. Drag marks were visible. Next to them, Riley's dive knife lay abandoned. It, too, was coated with the black sticky substance. The seaman had kept his head and tried to help. Lee touched his mike. "Crane to Seaview. Do you read me?"

"Loud and clear, skipper." Sparks had obviously been expecting the call. "Sir, we've lost contact with Mr. Morton. Is he with you, sir?" Of course, the COB, as Dive Master, would have reported Riley's distress call, and Sparks would have tried to raise the XO immediately.

Instead of answering the question, Lee asked another one that was more to the point. "Do you have his transponder signal?" A position was imperative…

"Yes, sir, but it's very faint, and we can't pinpoint his position…" Sparks broke off for a moment, then returned to the connection. "Stand by for the admiral, sir."

The next voice, the admiral's familiar basso rumble, showed strain. "Lee, what's happened? Why have we lost contact with Mr. Morton? Riley gave the chief some rot about a monster!"

Lee pondered how best to answer that question when in fact he didn't know what had happened to Chip, other than Riley's story. "Riley says he was dragged away by some unknown creature, sir. Ski and I are on the scene, but we only have about thirty minutes of air left, and we don't know how far this cave system extends." He glanced at Ski, who had sunk himself into the pool. "We need new tanks, weapons, and at least two more sailors." He couldn't mount a rescue effort with only Ski and a badly shaken Riley. He had no idea what Chip's situation was, or what kind of creature might have dragged him away; to have the best shot at bringing off a rescue, he needed more men, and he needed weapons. Something that would take the creature down should they need to. "Spear guns and lasers. Riley says it's big, so we don't want to take any chances. Pat and the COB for preference, sir." Good men, steady men. And he needed steady men for work like this. Plus, Sharkey was known to all aboard as a bit of a mother hen. He'd sniff out his missing officer in double time, given the chance.

"Understood. You'll have what you need within fifteen minutes. Seaview, out."

Lee suspected Admiral Nelson himself would be part of the rescue team that would appear in a few minutes. While he waited, he paced to the edge of the pool at the back of the cave.

Kowalski surfaced and climbed out to report. "The system looks like it goes back a ways. It gets pretty tight about thirty feet in." He paused, and Lee tensed, noting Ski's anxious face. "I found Mr. Morton's air tank, sir. It's badly mangled." He said it quietly, with a glance at Riley. Trust the senior rating to look out for the younger inexperienced sailor.

Lee kept his dismay out of his face, striving for the same kind of calm dispassionate façade that Chip wore so well. He knew he'd failed utterly from the look in Ski's eyes. But this news was not good. Without an air tank, Chip would – at the least – have aspirated seawater. At worst, he might have drowned, in which case they were looking for a corpse. Lee thrust that unsettling thought down, locking it away. "What's the chance of more dry caves back there?"

Kowalski contemplated the question. "There's a good chance, sir, but as the tide starts to come in…" He didn't need to finish the thought. "But it's unlikely the creature would head for a dry cave unless it's able to survive out of the water."

"Assume that it is," Lee snapped because the alternative was unthinkable. "Riley."

Riley had pulled himself together in some semblance of rationality. He approached the pool quietly and acknowledged the captain's summons with a voice that was somewhat grim, but surprisingly steady. "Yes, sir?"

Lee regarded him for a moment, impressed that the youngest member of Seaview's crew could acquit himself so well after what must surely have been a traumatic experience. "Was the XO injured?"

"I heard bone crack, sir." Riley's face blanched, but he answered quietly and steadily. "Might have been his leg or his ribs… Or both. And I don't know what might have happened after…" He trailed into silence, swallowed hard, then added passionately, "Sir, I want to help… To be part of this."

Lee was inclined to refuse, on the grounds that the young man was too shaken up, but he knew it would be important to Riley, a way to prove to himself that he had done all he could. The captain drew in a deep breath and nodded casually. "Of course. We'll need everyone we can get. Especially if Mr. Morton is significantly injured." He blew his breath out in a hiss between his teeth. He didn't need Ski's sharp glance to remind him that if Chip was seriously injured reality probably meant that they wouldn't be able to reach him in time. But Riley didn't need to know that. And Lee refused to believe it. "Ski, you said it was tight. Can we get through?"

Ski nodded confidently. "If we're careful, sir." He paused, then added a quiet warning. "Getting back may be the problem."

That was a warning Lee didn't need. He already knew that without an air tank, Chip would have to use someone's extra regulator and air tank. Two people breathing off one tank made diving more difficult; it required that the person without a tank be at least able to help himself. But if Chip had broken bones, or worse, he might not be able to swim at all. Depending on the seriousness of his injuries, it could be almost impossible to bring the XO home.

Lee shook the thought away, not allowing it to cloud his judgment now. They would cross that bridge only if they had to. He checked his watch. Fifteen minutes gone; a dive team should be approaching. He turned back toward the front of the cave, expecting to see men come out of the water momentarily.

But instead of a dive team, the flying sub eased up out of the water and spat out four men from its rear hatch. Three were in diving suits and carried lasers and spear guns: Admiral Nelson, as expected, and Sharkey and Patterson. They carried three extra air tanks as well, and began to assist Lee, Ski, and Riley out of the spent tanks.

The fourth man wore his khaki uniform and carried a medical bag. As the captain shrugged into the fresh air tank, he smiled at the sight of the doctor. Wild horses couldn't have kept Dr. Will McKenzie away from a prospective patient, but he was no diver; Nelson had brought him as close as possible. Now, the doctor targeted Lee with an exasperated glare every bit as powerful in its own way, as Chip's icy best. "You have become a very bad influence on young Mr. Morton, skipper. Before you came on board, I never had him in my Sick Bay, except for his annual physical. Now…?" He shook his head and looked around the cave. Despite the calm, compassionate face he put on for his patients, his anxiety showed in his eyes.

Admiral Nelson had a great deal more to say, of course, most of it to Riley. "Describe what you saw. We need to know what we're up against." He listened, scowling at Riley's description, but the rapid-fire questions came when the sailor produced the fossil. "Where did you find this? And the tentacle was just like this? You're sure? Strong enough to break bones and pull him from your grasp? Can you estimate the size of the creature?"

Riley did his best to answer all the questions as he slipped on a new air tank. "Mr. Morton found it, sir, partly in the water back there. The tentacles that grabbed him were just like that, sir. Even had those spiky things." He shuddered, remembering it, and Lee laid a calming hand on his shoulder. "And it was big… Bigger than a man, I'd say. Strong, too. I tried to hold him, sir, and I couldn't…" His voice broke, and he swallowed hard. "Do you know what it is?"

The admiral handed the fossil to Lee. "No, I don't." His voice was harsh, but his blue eyes were kind. "You've done well, Riley. It's not your fault." His eyes slid to the thing in Lee's hands, and he said absently, "Some kind of a squid, at a guess." He paced away, muttering to himself. "Not impossible that something like that could survive here… The area isn't well-traveled, this island is uninhabited, and protected by a reef. But something that size? It would almost certainly have to be more amphibious than modern-day squid… But how? And what is it eating? There's not enough prey here for something that large, is there?" He frowned and squatted down by the water at the back of the cave.

Lee looked down at the surprisingly heavy, innocent-looking rock in his hands. Odd… The soft tissue of the tentacle was perfectly preserved in the limestone. It wasn't unheard of, but it certainly was very rare. This was a truly large tentacle, but the most disturbing things about it were the hook-like spikes embedded in each sucker. When this thing grabbed something, it would do some damage… He looked up at Admiral Nelson, fear quickening his breath. "We need a plan, sir, and we need one quick."

The admiral nodded, gathered his men around, and began to speak.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Cold… The chill stabbed through his skin, forcing shudder after shudder as he struggled to breathe. Air seemed to stick in his throat, causing him to cough and retch, frighteningly breathless, until the water he'd aspirated seared his throat and was expelled with the next cough. Finally he drew air shallowly into his burning lungs.

For a moment, Chip Morton lay there, eyes closed, a mass of throbbing pain. His right leg felt like jelly. Judging from the sharp stabbing ache in his foot and ankle, he suspected one or more broken bones. His lungs heaved fiery spasms every time he drew breath, and he could hear and feel his ribs creak. His mind was blank, with only broken memories of how he had reached this place. Something hard lay under his back, like thousands of tiny pins, prickling his flesh, and the cold air singed his lungs and tingled against his skin.

Something had dragged him here. He remembered Riley wrapping arms around him, desperately trying to hold him, but whatever the thing was, it had dragged him from Riley's grasp and down under the water. He hadn't been able to catch a breath before the water closed over his head. The thing had been fast, and he hadn't been able to fight free of it. He had definitely inhaled water through nose and mouth; Will wouldn't like that… How he had come to rest in this dry, cold place, he had no idea.

But he knew he had to move. He didn't know where he was, or if the creature that had brought him here would come back. If it did, and found him lying here, with no fight left in him, that would be the end of it. He refused to give up so easily.

Slowly, carefully, he attempted to roll over, but had to stop when his head exploded into white-hot, hammering agony, echoed by spasms of pain in his chest and right ankle. Not good. But waiting to be eaten alive was definitely not an option. Chip completed his roll and pushed up on his hands, feeling something brittle crunch beneath him. Opening his eyes, he pushed himself to his knees, and bit his lip against the cry of pain that burned in his throat. Best to be as silent as he could; sound might summon the creature. He wondered if it was the sound of his and Riley's voices that had brought it before…

A dim phosphorescence coated the cave walls; either plant or animal life – plant life, he suspected - but the glow was too dim to show him what hard brittle substance lacerated his knees and coated the cave floor. He knew he wouldn't be able to get his feet under him here, at the edge of the water, and too far from the cave walls to use them to help him. Gritting his teeth, he started to crawl toward the wall in front of him. His right leg refused to function, but determination drove him, and he dragged the unresponsive limb behind him. About halfway there, pain forced him to stop and gather his breath and his courage before he continued the effort. The cold shivered through his skin, and he could feel it in every nerve end. Even the sharp ends of the debris that lacerated the palms of his hands and his knees were brittle and cold. The litter felt uncannily like bone, a thought that did not offer any real comfort. If it were bone, it meant that this thing had fed here before, many times. It might mean that human bones were laced among the others. Previous victims who had found no rescue or escape…

At last, after what felt like hours, but could surely only have been a few minutes, his fingers touched the cave wall. He laid his head against it, exhausted by the effort it had taken to get here. But he didn't have the luxury of time. The creature would almost certainly be back; he wouldn't wait passively for it. He clawed his way up the wall, unable to stifle a sharp cry of pain against the throbbing in his head, and the stinging stabs that shuddered through his ankle. The cry echoed eerily off the cave walls, and he could only hope that the thing he dreaded hadn't heard it.

Now that he was on his feet, he could take some stock of his injuries in the dim glow of the phosphorescence. His right ankle and foot wouldn't bear his weight, lending credence to his theory that he had suffered broken bones. The creak of abused ribs was loud in the cold stillness, and echoed the agony in his head and ankle. The neoprene diving suit had been sliced – practically shredded – around his legs and across his torso, revealing the marks of the tentacles, the long hooked gashes left by the wicked spikes embedded in the suckers.

Like the fossil he'd found in the first cave… As if some prehistoric monster had somehow survived into modern times. He contemplated that for a confused moment, distracted by the strangeness of it, then shook the thought away. If it were true, it was just pure rotten luck, but he had no time to worry about it. He had to find a way out of here…

Blood leaked from the gashes on leg and torso, the iron-rich smell of it tangy in the chill air. Considering his run of luck, lately, the creature could probably smell the blood, and would be drawn by that as well as any sound he might make. Chip could also feel blood oozing stickily down the left side of his face. It stimulated a memory of how the creature had dragged him through dark water, how his head had slammed against something hard, and he'd lost consciousness. He'd probably lost his air tank at or around that time, too. Two things that Will wouldn't be happy about: aspirated seawater and – judging from the way the cave danced and wavered fuzzily in the dim glow – a fairly serious concussion… Oh, yeah, he'd be getting a lecture if he ever got back to Seaview. But he'd almost welcome the tirade Will would give him, seeing as how it would mean that he _**had**_ gotten back to Seaview, alive and able to hear it…

Right now, however, the injuries meant he wouldn't be swimming out of here. He touched his throat and found that his link to Seaview and the other diving party had vanished as well, leaving behind only a raw scrape and a sore throat to verify that it had once been there.

But the weight belt carried a transponder unit. If it could still send out signals, if the signals were strong enough to penetrate the cave walls, if Seaview could pick them up and pinpoint his location… He shivered, feeling the cold in every bone. Too many conditions. Reality was simple: unless Riley was able to point a rescue party in the general direction – unlikely since Chip himself had no idea how far into the cave system the creature had dragged him – he would have to get himself out of this. Or die trying. He suspected that injured as he was, it would be the latter.

The cave spun suddenly, dizzily around him, stirring up nausea in his stomach. He clamped his eyes shut against the crazy dance, and for a moment just concentrated on keeping the meager contents of his stomach down. When he opened his eyes, he found himself sitting on the cave floor again with no memory of how he got there.

Something stirred the surface of the water. Chip crawled up the wall again, far too slowly, and hobbled away from the water's edge. He needed a weapon, but he hadn't been able to retain his grip on his dive knife. He slid down the wall to the cave floor as his right ankle gave out. Survival depended on his ability to fight off the creature and find a way out of here that didn't involve drowning. Unable to stand for more than a few minutes at a time, hardly able to drag enough air into his abused lungs to function, and with his head throbbing dizzily, he reluctantly admitted to himself that his chances looked pretty remote.

But giving up wasn't in his vocabulary. He groped among the litter of the cave floor until he found a long object that seemed less brittle that the rest of the debris. In order to see it clearly, he lifted it until it practically touched his nose, scowling at the musty, earthy scent. A human long bone… He wasn't the first man to face this situation; no rescue had been forthcoming for the poor soul whose bone he contemplated. An insane urge to apologize to that long-ago victim before he used the man's bone as a potential weapon spun lazily through his fuzzy mind. He blinked it away and pushed himself up the wall to his feet again. If only the cold would numb the pain, like it numbed his fingers…

Tentacles heaved out of the water. Chip watched warily, hopping back from them, gritting his teeth against the pain and dizziness. Collapsing now was not an option.

What pulled up out of the water was not like anything he had ever seen. Very like a squid with eight arms, but with more tentacles, it was an odd mottled pink color. Its arms allowed it to scuttle along the floor, oddly mobile for a squid on dry land. Two enormous blue eyes that seemed self-luminous peered around the cave in a near-sighted fashion. He couldn't see the parrot-like beak, but he could hear it, snapping open and closed as if it were smacking its lips in anticipation of a fine meal. Its tentacles squirmed along the cave floor, searching hungrily. How it could survive out of the water, he didn't know, but revulsion roused the nausea in his stomach and the icy finger of dread slithered up his spine, forcing him to shudder.

A tentacle writhed across his foot; a spurt of adrenaline allowed him to jump back and whack the appendage with the bone he held. The creature barked an odd, piercing squeal and withdrew. Not a moment too soon. Chip's right leg gave out, tumbling him to the ground, knocking his breath away. The creature scrabbled back at the noise of his fall, and peered around the cave, almost as if it were blind. Its tentacles twisted and squiggled across the cave floor toward him.

As he hefted the bone and steeled himself for battle, he heard a shrill, answering ululation from the water. The squid-like monster in front of him, scuttled aside to make way for a truly gigantic, leprous grey fellow with large milky blue eyes that heaved itself up and out of the water to stand almost trembling on eight tree-trunk-like arms.

It towered above him where he sat on the floor. An old injury had ripped half of a tentacle away, but the wound had healed cleanly. Several of its tentacles bore wounds that might have been made by his dive knife or Riley's. This gigantic creature was almost certainly the one who had brought him here. The smaller one was whole and uninjured. Its tentacles still quested across the floor toward him, searching for him. Offspring of the larger creature? Or just another summoned here by the smell of his blood, and the sound of him moving about the cave? But no, if it were challenging for the meal he represented, they would surely be fighting over him. Since they weren't he had to assume that the smaller one was a juvenile, still large enough to overwhelm a man, but apparently unable to hunt its own prey as yet…

The impossibility of fighting off two of them would have filled him with a certain amount of dismay, had he been able to think clearly. Instead, instinct took over, and he scrambled back from both of the creatures, clinging tightly to his makeshift weapon. Help would be nice, but help was likely unavailable. Lee and the admiral might be looking, but it would be worse if they made their way here, only to be attacked by these things. As captain of the Seaview, and a four-star admiral, respectively, Lee and Admiral Nelson were too important to risk against these things, whatever they were… Best if they stayed away, even if it meant no rescue was forthcoming. He would fight them off as long as he could, and pray that the things wouldn't have any stomach for the battle…

The larger one uttered a shrill call, answered by the smaller one, then it scuttled sideways, searching in a different part of the cave, while the smaller one continued to advance toward him, its tentacles an advance guard, feeling blindly for its prey. Chip drew in a breath that stuck in his throat, causing him to cough helplessly for precious seconds. Both creatures froze at the sound, then turned unerringly toward him.

The smaller one reached him first. He swung the bone hard, impacting its bulbous body and knocking it back. It shrieked, calling the bigger one. The short reprieve allowed him to claw his way up the wall again, all of his weight balanced on his left leg. He'd give them a fight, no matter his chances…


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Admiral Harriman Nelson followed Kowalski through the water, conscious of the other men around him. The fossil was intriguing; a hitherto unknown creature preserved in limestone, waiting to be found… Even more incredible that the creature itself had survived into the present day. Ordinarily, Nelson would have been excited, but this thing had taken one of his men, before he had even been aware of its existence.

The divers had been looking for a particular species of coral that should be found here. The climate was right, the area was not well-known… The species of brain coral Nelson was looking for should flourish on the reef here. But neither dive party had found any trace of it. While looking for it, Chip and Riley had found the littoral cave. They had absolutely followed protocol. Chip was incapable of doing anything less. He had informed Seaview of the find, their intention to explore, the amount of air they had left, and when they would start back. He did everything by the book; add to that the fact that he had earned the distinction of Master Diver, and understood the responsibility that came with it. There was no doubt at all that he knew what he was doing, and that he was prepared for every foreseeable eventuality.

But no one could have foreseen the sudden appearance of a creature that shouldn't even exist anymore.

Nelson watched Ski turn effortlessly in the water, slipping into the narrow passage between two large basaltic formations. In his turn, the admiral, too, rotated his body to move into the crack, though he had a tighter squeeze than the men behind him. The narrowness of the passage made him wonder how a creature as large as Riley had described had managed to get through, especially dragging a full grown, undoubtedly struggling man. Contact with the basalt formations at high speed would have caused injury. It might have killed…

Nelson thrust the thought away, glad when the passage widened again after only a few feet. Something shrieked above them, a strange, sobbing cry that tingled along his spine. He glanced around at his team, and saw Kowalski pause and point upward. The admiral looked up, and saw the surface of the water above him.. Possibly another dry cave. Whatever had made that sound was up there, and he had a sinking feeling that his missing man was up there, too, probably fighting for his life. Nelson signaled to the other members of the search party, and they swam upward, breaking the surface.

A shrill, piercing cry hung in the air, echoing off the cave walls. Kowalski, already on the move, targeted a pinkish monstrosity with his laser. Nelson climbed out of the water, looking around for his missing man. Something much larger than the creature Kowalski had attacked slipped into the shadows at the back of the cave. As long as it was in retreat, Nelson ignored it. He spotted Chip, at last, sagged against the cave wall, partly hidden by the bulk of the pinkish creature, his face gray in the flashlight's bright beam. In one hand, he held a human long bone. The other wrapped his side as he coughed raspily. Nelson scurried over and reached the younger man just as Chip slid down the wall, no longer able to stand up. The admiral knelt beside him, conscious of Lee settling among the remains on the cave floor, too. "Easy, lad. We're going to get you out of here." But he studied his XO's condition with an anxious eye, uncertain if rescue would even be possible.

Chip offered the travesty of a smile as the coughing eased. "Good to see you, sir…" The words were hoarse, the voice weak; the attempt to speak induced another fit of coughing, deep chesty coughs that caused his ribs to creak. When the coughing finally eased, he collapsed back against the hard stone of the cave wall, gasping for breath, as if he couldn't draw in enough air. At last, he managed to find his voice again, though Nelson and his captain had to lean in close to hear his words. "But I can't let you risk your lives for me…"

Lee cut across the words, giving his XO a fiery glare. "That's not your decision to make, mister!"

Nelson laid a calming hand on the skipper's shoulder, but spoke directly to Chip in a voice much calmer and steadier than he had expected. He wasn't usually the calm one. He depended on either his captain or his XO to temper his fire when necessary. "Can't lose the best damned XO in any man's Navy, can I?"

Chip turned his head toward the battle between the COB and his men, and the dying creature. Doing so exposed a jagged wound across his left temple that still oozed blood, staining his face. "There were two of them…" he whispered, and coughed again, pressing his hand tightly against his side as if the pressure could ease the pain in burning lungs and creaking ribs.

Nelson glanced at Lee and saw the concern in those hazel eyes. The captain barked out a stern order. "Report your condition." An attempt to engage the XO's focus and keep him as alert as possible when he was so clearly nearing the end of his endurance.

Chip straightened a little, wincing as he did so, and the bone he'd used as a weapon slipped unnoticed from his fingers as he concentrated on Lee's request. "Pretty sure my right ankle is broken. The ribs as well." He lifted a hand to the wound across his temple but his fingers didn't quite touch it. "Probable concussion." He coughed again, and shivered in the chill air. "Will's not going to be happy…"

The squid-like creature squealed as the lasers finally cut it down. Nelson called out to the men. "Get samples. COB, you know what to do. Patterson, Kowalski, there's another one around here someplace. Keep your eyes open." He didn't wait for their acknowledgment, but turned back to Lee. "This isn't going to be easy."

Lee nodded grimly and leaned in close, startling Chip. "Listen to me, buddy. You're going to have to help us out here." He shook the XO's shoulder gently, just enough to make him focus on the words. "Stay with us, Chip. We can't get you out of here without some help from you."

"Understood, sir."

But privately Nelson thought that Chip didn't look like he could provide much help. Now that rescue had arrived and he no longer had to fight off the creatures alone, his injuries were taking their toll. Shock and concussion had fogged his mind, and the chill in the cave aggravated the cough that spasmed out at ever-decreasing intervals. His eyes had dulled to the point that Nelson wasn't sure he really understood anything…

But Lee explained his plan anyway, conveying a sense of urgency that held the attention of his audience. "Chip, you'll use my secondary demand valve. There's plenty of air to get us both back to the first cave where Will is waiting for us. The admiral and I will stay with you, so don't worry if you can't swim…"

Chip might have been fuzzy, but Nelson had known instinctively how he would react. "That's an unacceptable risk, Lee…" he rasped out before a fit of coughing silenced him. Both Nelson and his captain knew where the XO was going with his protest. If there were two creatures and the one left alive pursued them, then all three of them were at risk of injury because two were slowed by the third. Chip would never, under any circumstances, submit to putting two other men in danger, especially not if those two men were his superiors.

Lee overrode him ruthlessly, as only Lee could. "Unacceptable is leaving you behind. It's not far…"

A shout interrupted him. "Skipper! Admiral! Look at the size of that thing!" Kowalski stood stoically, laser at the ready, but his face had gone pale.

Lee rose, turning toward the leprous gray monster that shuffled out of the shadows on huge, thick arms. A mass of tentacles writhed around its bulbous head, but its eyes were a milky, watery blue, and Nelson thought the thing was probably blind. "Oh, my God…" The captain's voice puffed out on the words, his breath warmer than the air in the cave. "Admiral…" But he didn't ask a question or wait for an acknowledgment. Instead, he trained his own laser on the creature, stepping into the fray alongside Kowalski.

Chip tried to claw his way up the wall, for what purpose, Nelson wasn't sure, but the admiral slapped a hand against his chest, holding him down. "Easy, lad. They've got it handled." He watched the battle with a clinical detachment he didn't really feel. Killing this thing saddened him because it might very well be the last of its kind. But a glance at the bones that littered the floor told the tale of a creature that had fed on humans for years. There hadn't been a rescue for the vast majority of its victims; Nelson wasn't about to let it claim one of his people, and if that meant killing it…

It screamed, pierced by five lasers as the COB, Patterson, and Riley joined the fray. Tentacles writhed in the air, seeking purchase on something. It screamed again as lasers cut into its barrel-shaped arms, toppling it over. The wounds belched forth a flood of black, foul-smelling ichor as the creature thrashed about squealing. Nelson looked away, not wanting to watch it suffer, but he couldn't shut out its piercing shrieks. He couldn't help but feel a certain amount of pity for it, even when he looked at the damage it had done to his XO…

He frowned, studying that damage now. Chip sagged back against the cave wall, his eyes closed, his face gray. He shivered uncontrollably in the cold air, and his breathing was labored and shallow, ending in the deep, chesty coughs that were painful to hear, echoed by the ominous creaking of ribs. His ankle and foot had swollen; it was clear they wouldn't bear his weight. The trip back to FS1 was not a long one, but Nelson found himself worrying that the lad wouldn't make it. He flashed back to ten years before, waiting on the Ronald Reagan for word, slowly losing hope as the days passed… Seven long days…

He shook his head, forcing the memory down and shutting it away, as Lee rejoined them, crouching down, eyes anxious. "It's dead, sir. And we'd better go now." He understood the seriousness of the situation. Gently, he shook his friend's shoulder and smiled encouragingly when Chip opened his eyes. "Time, Chip. Come on."

Chip shook his head weakly, but didn't have the strength to make any further protest. Nelson gripped his arm firmly and helped him up. A soft, barely stifled gasp of pain caused the admiral to cast a speaking glance at Lee. The captain's expression turned grim and he, too, lent a hand, urging his friend toward the water.

Sharkey gathered the men behind them as he stuffed samples taken from the larger creature into sample bags. "He doesn't look too good, sir," he said softly to the admiral.

Nelson merely nodded as he eased into the water.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Dr. Will McKenzie hated waiting. The longer he paced the confines of the cave, the more worried he became over the condition of his patient. Riley had heard bones break. What else might have happened? Kowalski had reported a lost air tank; that meant aspirated seawater, and Chip Morton had suffered from pneumonia before. Depending on the presence and extent of any damage to his lungs, he could easily succumb again. An allergy to penicillin coupled with an allergy to sulfa drugs meant that Will had to keep some rare and obscure antibiotics on hand for the XO. He had brought everything with him that he could even imagine needing. As the minutes ticked by, he began to be afraid that he would need them all.

He hadn't been kidding about the skipper's effect on his XO. Before Lee Crane, Chip Morton had been able to dodge whatever perils had been sent his way. In part that was because Seaview's first cruises had been conducted under a hush-hush cloak of secrecy that had protected her crew. They hadn't really come up against anything odd or unusual in the submarine's first year, until Captain Phillips had tweaked Dr. Gamma's nose and made an enemy. Neither Phillips nor young Mr. Morton had been prone to accidents or to dangerous incidents. Dr. Gamma had changed all that.

For then Dr. Gamma had killed Captain Phillips, and Commander Lee Crane had stepped into his shoes. And Lee was a very different animal from John Phillips. He worked regularly for ONI, a highly gifted agent; he threw his heart and soul into everything he did without a single thought for the consequences. To say that Lee Crane risked his life on the turn of every card was a laughable understatement. The man was a walking disaster area!

Even as the fleeting thought crossed his mind, Will admitted to himself that it wasn't really true. The dangers which so often enveloped the skipper were almost never of his own making. But he was the kind who had to stand up against evil in whatever fashion he could, and that kind tended to attract trouble as Will knew only too well.

Captain Phillips could never be accused of being a coward, of course, but he had been the quiet type. His influence on Chip had been profound, but more in the nature of a mentor and a father figure, protective rather than daring. He had enhanced Chip's steady calm in the face of chaos, and commended his ability to think on his feet and make lightning quick decisions.

Lee Crane's influence was also profound; like always called to like. Lee was larger-than-life, the hero type, willing to sacrifice himself for a worthy cause. While Chip could not be accused of that larger-than-life personality – he preferred to efface himself, allowing credit for his successes to go to others, while claiming responsibility not just for every one of his own failures, but often for any others that came his way – he was nonetheless willing to sacrifice himself. For a cause if necessary, but always for the people under his command. John Phillips had tried to downplay if not actively discourage that tendency. Lee's exploits only encouraged it.

And again, it was true that the difficulties they'd faced recently hadn't been of either Lee's or Chip's making. Dr. Kelly's attack had been unexpected, and even Admiral Nelson hadn't thought that Captain Howell's retirement party would be dangerous or that a respected Navy pilot who had worked his last few years at the Pentagon would turn traitor. No one had believed that Dr. Marybeth Pope would make a play for her revenge, or that Admiral Roman Lura would decide to attack Admiral Nelson through his boat and her crew. None of them were incidents that could have been foreseen. But in every case, Chip Morton had acted according to his sterling character, and in every case, he'd ended up in Will's hands.

The doctor heaved a melancholy sigh. The XO was not a terrible patient, like Lee Crane was. Quiet and unassuming, he generally followed doctor's orders willingly. Lee Crane struggled against Will in much the same way he struggled against villainy.

Again not fair. Will knew that the skipper didn't think of him as a villain. It was just that Captain Crane tended to activity and being down was foreign to his nature; unlike Chip Morton, Lee Crane struggled desperately against any inactivity, even if it was healing inactivity. The XO, on the other hand, possessed an inherent understanding that in certain cases, inactivity was the fastest route back to business as usual.

A splash alerted the doctor to the return of the rescue party. As he turned toward the sound, Lee Crane called his name with uncharacteristic urgency. Will hurried to the captain, as the admiral, too, broke the surface; the two of them supported an alarmingly pale Chip Morton. Will wrapped his arms around the soaking wet, injured man, and hauled him out of the water. An anxious skipper followed, hovering as Will gently removed the spare regulator and did a visual scan.

Chip was conscious, but definitely slipping into shock. His pupils were huge, but unevenly dilated, undoubtedly a condition related to the jagged wound across his temple that still oozed blood sluggishly. His right foot and ankle were badly swollen: the foot on one side, indicating a sprain, while the ankle puffed up all around, indicating a break. He shivered constantly in the cold air of the cave. Every breath was a struggle that generally ended in a violent cough. He winced with each one, and pressed a hand to his side, as if the coughing spasms hurt. Will could hear the creak of broken ribs. Long, hooked gashes covered chest and legs. Will laid a hand against the XO's forehead, and frowned at how cold his skin was. Opening his medical bag, the doctor got to work, shutting out the men hovering around him. Triage had become a familiar practice to him again, since he'd joined this boat. First, he cleaned the wounds as best he could, and listened to the XO's breathing, shaking his head at what he saw and heard. An antibiotic was definitely in order. He removed a small vial of vancomycin from his medical bag and carefully filled a syringe. Once they got back to Seaview, he could set up an IV and deliver several antibiotics in combination, thus avoiding some of the unpleasant side effects of vancomycin used alone. He inserted the needle into a vein efficiently and pushed the antibiotic in. Next step, give the patient oxygen, for the shock and get him into the Flying Sub. The captain and his men could be of use here. "Skipper, we need to get him into FS1, so I can work on him."

Lee Crane swept around and started issuing orders. "COB, you and Ski move him inside. Careful, now! Pat, Riley, stow the weapons, and stay out of Doc's way. Admiral, sir…"

But the admiral was already on the move, following Sharkey and Ski as they gently carried their burden into the Flying Sub. Will strode beside him, wondering what was going through Harry's thoughts at this moment. He didn't have to wonder long. "Just a freak accident," the admiral muttered, almost as if he were angry. "What the hell, Will! He's a Master Diver! How in the hell did this happen?"

Will shook his head and laid a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Not his fault. Not yours either. Nobody could have foreseen this."

Harry grumbled. "That seems to be the story of my life lately." He was silent for a moment, but Will waited, knowing he wasn't through. "When did life become so complicated? I never used to worry about things like this. I never used to have to plan for any eventuality, just like I was still in the Navy, instead of retired for some eight years! Now, I have the People's Republic breathing down my neck, wanting all my secrets, and ONI poaching my captain whenever they can, and the occasional mad scientist trying to get his…" He snarled at an unpleasant memory and amended that statement, "or her hands on my officers or my inventions… And on top of all that, I have to deal with this? Unknown prehistoric creatures who want to munch on my people?"

"Seems to me that your XO and I are dealing with this," Will said mildly. Harry had a tendency to see things like this as a personal insult. Occasionally, he needed to be brought back to earth, to be made to understand that – no matter how badly he was feeling – others were definitely suffering more than he was. It wasn't a lack of empathy, really. For a man of genius, Harry was remarkably empathetic. He felt every injury one of his people suffered, and deliberate attacks upon them made him furious. But it was often a failing of the brilliant, that they took everything as a personal affront. They were immeasurably fortunate that, in the admiral's case, he took it personally because he cared deeply about his men. Will softened his rebuke with a smile.

Then he was all business as he entered the Flying Sub, snapping out orders. "Make sure you get those pillows under his legs. We've got to keep his feet elevated. And get him out of that diving suit!" Turning, he shooed Patterson, and Riley out. "Sorry, gentlemen, but you'll have to swim out of here. I don't want my patient crowded."

The skipper shot Sharkey a sharp glare, and the COB immediately moved to the rear hatch, gathering Patterson and Riley as he went. "Come on, you clowns. Let's get out of here and let the Doc get to work." He tugged both men out the rear hatch, dogging it behind him. Will nodded at Lee Crane, and moved to stand over his patient. Kowalski had already located alcohol, a sterile cloth, bandages, and anything else he thought Will might need; the doctor had kept Kowalski because of his corpsman training. Now the supplies sat nearby, and Ski was already stripping off the shredded diving suit. Will grabbed some blankets from the tiny storage closet, and flung them over the shivering young officer. He heard the skipper and the admiral beginning pre-operation checks, and tuned them out.

"Ski, get a splint on that ankle, and make sure the foot is wrapped." But Will grabbed the alcohol and a soft cloth and began to clean the wound on Chip's temple. The XO moaned a bit, then coughed again. Oxygen would help, but it couldn't control the cough. Nevertheless, Will grabbed an oxygen mask, securing it firmly over his patient's nose and mouth. The blue eyes had dulled now, and the lids were drooping. Will returned to the wound at the temple, cleaning the blood away as he spoke to the XO, trying to hold his attention and keep him conscious. "This is going to need a couple of stitches, Commander. You did a number on yourself, didn't you?" He affixed a bandage over the jagged cut, and turned down the blankets to reach the wounds on the torso. These did not look good. A few were already showing the angry red rims that heralded infection. Will dabbed at them with a sterile cloth soaked with alcohol. "I know that stings, but we've got to clean these out." The surface cleaning he'd done in the cave wouldn't cut it. He sighed as he worked, wondering if he'd brought anything like enough bandages to cover all these gashes… "You're not going to like this, but I suspect you will be in my evil clutches for awhile."

Chip stirred a little, and breathed out a soft, painful laugh. "Not evil…" he muttered, but he was clearly losing the battle to stay conscious. He coughed again, and his hand spasmed against his side, applying pressure in an attempt to ease the pain.

Will glanced at Kowalski and saw that the sailor was already dabbing gently at the gashes on the XO's legs. He nodded and went back to work on the wounded torso. As he soaked dried blood and wounded skin away from the gashes, he paused every now and again to unroll a strip of bandage and tape it in place. Ski mirrored his movements, as the rating worked on the abused legs. By the time they were finished, and Will had taped the ribs as securely as possible, the flying sub had eased back into the water and was headed for Seaview at top speed. And the XO looked a bit like a mummy. Will wrapped him up in several blankets, enhancing the mummy effect, hoping to keep him warm until they reached the boat. Starting an IV here was premature; it would be a nightmare to try and navigate the IV pole through the halls to the Sick Bay. Best to wait. He laid a hand across Chip's forehead, and frowned at the heat that now lingered there. Better than the ice-cold temperature of his skin in the cave, but not a real improvement. "Stay with me, Commander." He feared that wouldn't be possible much longer, but if he could keep the man conscious for a few more minutes, he would be better off in the end. Those pupils were still much too widely dilated, making his eyes seem black rather than the intense blue they generally were. "I fear you're going to be changing your mind about how evil I am in a little while. Once I get an IV in place, and start pumping you full of antibiotics and antipyretics, and the liquid sustenance I know you can't stand, you'll be wishing me at Jericho, I imagine." He smiled, knowing he was right, but also knowing that this particular patient wouldn't fight him like the skipper did.

He felt the jolt that heralded the flying sub's return to its berth. In a few minutes, his two corpsmen would open the rear hatch and he would be able to get his patient to Sick Bay. "Nice job, skipper. Smooth and fast." Lee didn't need the compliment, but he needed the unspoken encouragement. He didn't like to see any of his men down, but he was close to his XO. Most captains grew into a close working relationship with their executive officers, but few rubbed along together as well as these two did. They practically read each other's minds in crisis situations; Madness and Method indeed, though he suspected they would be furious if they knew it was Harry who had coined the hated nickname. Lee would be anxious, and his nerves would find expression in a short temper that scorched the men around him. They would forgive him, of course. By now, Sharkey and the others would have spread the word that the flying sub was on its way back with a badly wounded XO… And the men would be prepared for the skipper's short fuse.

The rear hatch cracked open, and John and Frank swarmed in with a stretcher. Will turned to the serious business of getting his patient safely to Sick Bay.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Admiral Nelson paced the floor of his cabin, furious both with the creature whose samples were now in his lab, and with himself for his insensitivity. Every time Will called him on it, he promised himself he would do better, but he just couldn't seem to express himself in such a way that his concern outweighed the personal affront he always felt when something happened to one of his men.

He had spent hours in the lab, shutting himself away and looking at the samples, testing them, teasing out what he hoped would be viable DNA, and running all the other tests he could think of. Keeping his mind off things, trying to spare his men his notorious temper. But in doing so, he had discovered some interesting things about the animal that had nearly killed his XO.

More squid-like than anything, it was also more amphibious than any squid. Its hooks were wicked weapons, but they were not a delivery method for any kind of venom. Instead, they were probably used to control smaller prey and drag it in to the beak. Larger prey would have to be taken on dry land, instead of underwater. It was probably a stealth hunter; the way it had taken Chip proved that. It could take prey both underwater and on land; interesting that it had chosen prey as large as a human male, but the bones scattered around the lair had shown a preference for humans. It had to have been the larger one that had hunted; the smaller one would not have had the strength for something so large as a human. But the larger one had paid for its audacity. It had lost part of one tentacle, and had had numerous scars on the others. Where a squid could grow back a severed tentacle, this creature apparently couldn't. Or it took a very long time to regenerate.

Compared to the fossil, the creature was very similar, but there were a few minor differences. The hooks in the suckers were slightly more hooked in the fossil than they had been in the living creature. The suckers were tighter and smaller than the living creature. The fossil – when it had lived – would have been larger, truly enormous, and could have done much more damage with its hooks. It might have preyed on prehistoric sharks, or perhaps larger prey.

Why it had abandoned Chip for the precious minutes he needed to regain consciousness and attempt to fight it off, Nelson still didn't know, but he could make an educated guess. Some creatures only ate living prey, and they depended on a variety of indicators to tell them their prey was still alive. If this squid-like creature only fed on living prey, and if the indicators it favored were movement and sound, then when Chip had been knocked unconscious, it might have thought he was dead, because he wasn't moving… Thus, it had left him in the dry cave and gone in search of other prey. When he regained consciousness, and started moving around again, probably prompting a cry of pain, or a gasp, some kind of noise at the very least, the creature had heard him, and come back for him…

It was only a guess, but it was a plausible one. If he could find another living specimen to observe, he might be able to prove himself right. Or wrong, as the case might be, but he'd bet money he was right… If only they'd been able to take one of the creatures alive… But Nelson hadn't been willing to take the chance that more of his men would be hurt.

He glanced at his watch. Surely Will would have another update by now. Something a little more satisfying than _now we wait and see_ … He hated waiting, and Will knew it. Lee also hated waiting, but he had other duties to see to, including driving this boat. He wouldn't be able to pester the doctor like Nelson could and frequently did.

The admiral didn't like his men to be down. When men were down, the boat was short-handed. A short-handed boat took more risks, because the men were overworked. He struggled sometimes to keep from yelling at sick or injured men, but it wasn't because he didn't care, or because he thought they were gold-bricking… It was simply because he was worried about the boat and the mission.

At least that's what he told himself. In reality, there were times – like now – when one of the handful of men in whom he was personally invested was injured, and then it was worry that drove him crazy and shortened his temper. He never liked to admit to emotional upheaval. He was a scientist, damn it, and scientists did not get emotional!

But emotional or not, upset or not, his temper was scorching at times of stress like this. But he couldn't blame the creature for trying to survive, and he couldn't fault Chip for his handling of the crisis. He had kept Riley out of danger – his first instinct being, of course, to protect the man under his command – and he had done his best to control an uncontrollable situation. No, no one could be blamed for this fiasco, for once. But Nelson was still on pins and needles. He had invested time, effort, and a great deal of emotion in his captain and his XO. He hated that something like this had injured them.

And that creature had, in a sense, wounded them both. _Wait and see_ , was not the report the admiral had wanted on Chip's condition. But if he felt a bit like a father, hovering over a desperately ill child, Lee's situation was infinitely worse. Not only did he have a friend lying in critical condition in Sick Bay, but instead of waiting for news, he had to drive the boat, take on both his own duties and the XO's, because the second officer, Ned Bishop, was competent enough, but didn't have the gift of establishing a rapport with the men while commanding and disciplining them. He said and did all the right things, but for some reason, when he said or did them, the crew grew defensive and angry. So Lee, hampered by his sense of duty to the boat, could not harass Will for status reports. Worse, if the unthinkable happened… If Will lost this patient… It would be Lee who would have to inform the next of kin. That would be far worse for him than it would be for Elizabeth Morton, who had no real interest in her son, or for Sunny, who was high as a kite more often than not, and only reached out to her younger brother when she needed money…

But Will wouldn't lose this patient… Will couldn't lose this patient. Nelson forced the thought away, and concentrated on the mission he now undertook.

The mission that had brought them to these waters had already failed. The coral he sought didn't call this reef home, although the climate and conditions were perfect for it. But the discovery of the littoral cave and the creature had brought them a new mission. After he stopped by Sick Bay, he would head back to his lab and do some more tests on the samples they'd brought back. A pity they couldn't have saved the creature. But he could search these waters for more specimens. Perhaps they could find one and capture it, take it back to Pearl… It was no small thing to find a new species; proof would be rewarding.

He stepped into the hallway, and caught Lee heading back from the control room. The captain paused and offered a weary smile. "We're making a sweep of the waters, as you suggested, sir. Nothing yet."

Nelson nodded; he had known he could count on Lee to start the search pattern. He was no scientist, but he understood Nelson's intense interest in marine life. He would do his best to help the admiral find this creature, if it could be found. Since he had offered no protest – which he surely would have if his XO were still in critical condition - it must mean that Chip was doing fairly well. "Thanks, lad." Nelson moved past Lee, heading purposefully for Sick Bay.

If one knew the twists and turns of the tight corridors like Nelson did, it wasn't far to Will McKenzie's lair. The admiral strode into Sick Bay, looking around as he wondered – not for the first time – if he shouldn't enlarge Will's domain, maybe add a fully equipped operating room, so that Will wouldn't need the officers' wardroom. Of course, he rarely needed an operating room, so perhaps it wasn't practical. Something to think about later, when he had the time. For now…

He nodded grimly at Will, unsurprised when the doctor hurried to his side. Will never liked his patients disturbed. He especially hated it when Nelson came down here because Lee was a patient. The captain was hard enough to get settled, since he couldn't stand the inactivity, without Nelson stirring him up and unconsciously encouraging his mutiny against the doctor's orders.

Chip was a much better patient, and usually a better-tempered one, as well. He understood that the fastest way back to duty was to follow Will's orders explicitly. So despite his own impatience with inactivity, he would generally settle in here with a resignation that Lee lacked. If Will had to have a patient in Sick Bay, and it had to be one of the command team, then he'd rather have Chip than Lee. If he had his way, he would never have a patient at all, but that was a true impossibility. He was fortunate that he seldom had one of the command team, given the penchant for self-sacrifice they held in common.

"He's asleep, Harry. You can't disturb him right now." Will's firmness didn't surprise Nelson. He was fiercely protective of his patients and their well-being.

"No problem, Will. Just wanted an update." Harry hastened to reassure his friend, but his eyes sought out his XO, and he nodded when he found the man settled in one of the bunks, chest rising and falling evenly with his breathing.

Will sighed. "Very well. He's been better, as I'm sure you know. But all in all, it could have been much worse." He paused, studying his patient with a clinical detachment, that Harry knew he was far from feeling. What had made Will the right doctor for this boat was his compassion for his patients and his genuine love of medicine. He could mimic detachment, but he was never really detached, too caught up in the patient's illness or injury to keep his own feelings out of it. That warm sense of caring was what made him an excellent doctor, but it could also cause deep and lasting hurt, when the inevitable happened, and he lost a patient.

Harry frowned, pushing that thought away. Will wouldn't be losing a patient this time. He tuned into his friend's voice. "Serious concussion, of course. We'll be observing him for at least twenty-four hours to see how that plays out. And if there aren't any complications from that, there's still the mandatory three week recovery period from a brain trauma. The ankle is broken, but it was a simple fracture, which is good. Unfortunately it's complicated by the severe sprain to the foot. Probably at least eight weeks to heal for both of those. Which means he won't be doing watches for awhile, or making rounds, or crawling around under any panels, or conducting inspections, or even supervising loading and offloading." He glared at Nelson, remembering some of their battles over the last few years. "And don't think you can make me back off of that. I don't want him moving around on that ankle for at least four weeks. After that, we'll see."

Nelson nodded, promising himself that he wouldn't grow impatient – as he usually did – after only a handful of days. He had good men, but when one of them was down, it forced the rest to work harder. Lee and the junior officers wouldn't mind, but Lee had his own duties, and none of the junior officers were capable of the same kind of efficiency that Chip Morton was. He would be missed, and Nelson knew that, very soon, his own fuse would grow short, and he would be bullying Will to back off… "I'll leave you alone, Will…" But he knew it wouldn't last…

Will snorted in exasperated amusement. "For about two days, maybe." He shook his head, and smiled at last. "I was worried about the gashes, but this thing apparently doesn't inject venom… I have him on a mix of glycopeptides that I hope will kill the possibility of pneumonia and also any infections that could occur in those cuts. He does have a couple of broken ribs, but I've taped those." He frowned. "I'm mostly worried about the fact that he aspirated some seawater. Could very easily lead to pneumonia, and he's succumbed to that before. Pneumonia inevitably weakens the lungs with each bout. I'd rather ward it off, if I can." He walked over to the bunk, checked the IV, and adjusted a blanket. "If we can keep that from developing and the head injury doesn't throw us any surprises, the rest isn't too bad… Best case scenario, I might be able to release him to restricted duty in three or four weeks."

Nelson pursed his lips, not liking the sound of that. Still, it was better than he had expected. "No need to evacuate him to Pearl, then?"

"He'll rest easier on the boat, Harry." Will sounded sure of that, and frankly, Nelson was relieved to hear it. He hated to have to medevac any of his men. It meant that he hadn't done a good enough job keeping them safe. He expelled a hiss of air through his teeth.

"Well, that's some good news at any rate. We'll be hanging around here, then, Will, to see if we can find another one of those creatures…" He trailed off, suddenly aware of how that sounded, but Will only laughed.

"I won't say I wish you good luck with that, but I do understand how you think by now." He sobered quickly and cast Harry a questioning look. "Totally new species?"

"I think so…" But the more samples he could find, and especially if he could bring back a living specimen, the more likely that he could prove it. "Think of it, Will… A completely new marine species, that might be a survival from prehistoric times. Forget the coelacanth! This could be the find of a lifetime!"

"As long as it doesn't cost us a life…" Will clapped the admiral on the shoulder. "Just be careful, Harry. We've seen what it can do. If you find one, handle with care, okay?"

Harry sighed, accepting the advice in the spirit it was given. He wouldn't be risking any more men; if they couldn't net the thing and secure it in one of the larger saltwater tanks, they would use Seaview's cameras to photograph it, videotape it for posterity, and leave it alone. He would dearly love to bring home a living specimen, but if it couldn't be done, well, there was always next time…

Next time… What would he need if he came here again? Obviously he was forewarned now; he knew how the thing hunted and what it could do. A team of specially trained divers might be able to hunt it successfully and capture it. No time to train them now, of course, but when he came again, he would make sure that his best divers had been trained in new techniques…

Techniques they would probably have to invent, actually. Okay, then, he would need a round table discussion with his best divers, so he could hear suggestions on what they could do to capture the creature without getting hurt. He had at least four Master Divers aboard; input from them would be invaluable. All four of them – Chip, Lee, Sharkey, and Kowalski – had seen the creature and battled it. They would definitely have some good ideas. And Will surely couldn't object to Chip sitting in on a round table discussion…

If he waited long enough to train his divers in the new techniques they suggested, he might even be able to count on all four of his Master Divers heading the teams.

Special nets… He would need nets that could hold the creature, once they captured it. Something along the lines of a sub net, but much smaller gauge… He had something in mind; when he got back to his lab, he would sketch it out and talk to one of his machinists to see what it would take to build it. A flexible metal substance, perhaps an alloy of aluminum and titanium… It would need the strength of titanium for sure. Nelson had seen the mangled air tank that Kowalski had retrieved and brought back to Seaview after the rescue. Something that strong couldn't be restrained with steel nets alone…

The largest saltwater tank on board wouldn't hold even the smallest of the two creatures they'd battled in the cave. He'd either need to find a smaller specimen or build a bigger tank. Either way, whichever tank he used would have to be reinforced. He considered that as he stalked through the corridors; perhaps if he constructed the tank from herculite? Yes, that would work… The shop on the Institute grounds that manufactured herculite to his specifications should have no trouble with a saltwater tank… He would draw a design for that, too, when he reached his lab…


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Riley was miserable. He knew he'd screwed up, but no one would yell at him. The skipper and the COB had even praised him for quick thinking… He hadn't thought quickly. Truth to tell, he hadn't thought at all. He'd been scared to death. Man, there were a thousand other things he could have done besides huddle down in that stupid cave and freak out. He could have gone after the thing, maybe helped Mr. Morton fight it off…

And now, the guys were all sitting around the table with him, talking about it, and none of them said a word against him. He should have been able to relax in the crew's mess, but he could hardly put food in his mouth, and every time someone said something about the creature, he felt a little sick to his stomach.

"And he was fighting it off with a bone!"

That was Kowalski, relaying the gruesome details, as if it were a thing to be proud of, being forced to fight something off with a bone… Yet the other men echoed Ski's admiration with nods and comments of their own. Malone, especially, seemed impressed. "Yup." He slurped up a particularly long spaghetti noodle. "That's our XO. He doesn't know when to give up!"

Alfaro pushed his empty plate away and added with relish, "Hey, remember that time he took down that Dr. Melkin who was trying to kill the admiral?"

Ski laughed joyously, "Oh, oh, man! He used that broken chair leg like it was a sword or something! Melkin never knew what hit him!"

Crowe, eager to add his two cents, chimed in. "What about when he and the skipper took down those two guys who'd come on board as shipwreck victims, and turned out to be escaped criminals? Remember that?"

"Oh, yeah!" Malone grinned. "Man, ain't no one wants to tangle with Madness and Method!"

Riley pushed back from the table, unable to listen anymore. "Stop it!" He grabbed his plate and upended it over the trash can while the guys looked on in surprise. "This isn't something to joke about!"

Ski recovered first; dependable Ski who had been there and seen the creature. Ski, who should have known better. He wasn't laughing now. "Hey, Stu, calm down. It's not your fault."

Sure it wasn't… He'd been the first one to find the cave, the one to climb out into it, the one who wanted to explore, because he was bored looking for some weird brain coral that couldn't even be found in these waters. If he hadn't surfaced and crawled out into the cave, there was no guarantee that Mr. Morton would have set out to look around in there at all. He was focused on the mission, not on looking around some crazy tidal cave that they'd discovered by accident. He might not have been in danger at all, if it weren't for Riley. "I was the one who wanted to look around." He practically shouted his confession at Ski, sick to get it out, to have someone understand. "If I hadn't gone in there, there wouldn't have been any reason for Mr. Morton to. It _**was**_ my fault, Ski."

Ski shook his head, refusing to accept it. "If he didn't want to go into that cave, he wouldn't have. He'd have called you back, and gone on looking for coral. The skipper and I were coming to check it out, too. Not your fault, Stu. We were all bored, and wanted some excitement. Are you saying we're all at fault?" He eased closer, and patted Riley on the shoulder. "Did you head in there after a direct order not to? Did Mr. Morton have to go in to drag you out?" He snorted in disbelief. "I know better than that, and so do you. He told the boat he was going to explore. That means he wanted to."

Riley listened without interruption, trying to wrap his head around the words. Sure, he'd been the first one to find the cave, but it was true that Mr. Morton hadn't ordered him to stay away from it, and he hadn't been slow to follow Riley into it, either… But still… "I could have done something, Ski! I could have gone looking for him, something! I just sat there and waited for you, and didn't do a damned thing."

"Now wait a minute!" Malone stood up from the table and crossed his arms, glaring at Riley. "That's not the way I heard it. I heard you tried to stop that thing from dragging the XO away. I heard that you wanted to go with the rescue party, and that you had a part in killing those things and getting the XO back. Doesn't sound like you did nothing, pal."

"Yeah," Alfaro and Crowe chorused.

"And both the chief and the skipper said you did the right thing." Ski shook Riley's shoulder gently. "Isn't that enough for you?"

Riley shook his head. "Then why do I feel so rotten? Like I failed him or something?" He remembered trying to slice through the tentacles, remembered how the black blood had flowed, sticky and slow, over his knife. Remembered how he'd dropped the knife finally and just tried to hold on to Mr. Morton… "I couldn't hold him, Ski. I tried…"

"That's right, kid. You tried." Ski patted his back. "None of us were there, we don't know that we could have done any better. You did the best you could. No one can fault you, and no one's going to."

Malone moved up on his other side. "Get some rest, Stu. It's been a long day, and you're just tired. Doc says the XO will be okay. You did good, kid." He paused, as he patted Riley on the back, just like Ski. "If it hadn't been for you, we might not have ever known what happened. You did _**real**_ good, kid."

Riley shook his head against their words, but somehow he felt a tiny bit better. Maybe he had done okay; he hadn't run away anyway. He'd wanted to, but he'd stuck tight, and he'd even gone with the rescue party. Sometimes he felt like a teenager, where these guys were concerned. No scratch that: They'd seen so much, he felt like a _**baby**_ next to them. But maybe if they thought he'd done all right, he really hadn't screwed up as much as he'd thought.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Will McKenzie frowned at the chart, as if it were responsible for the information printed on it. With a sigh, he clicked his pen a couple of times, then made a notation, and handed the chart to his corpsman. "John, let's try Telithromycin. Obviously the glycopeptides aren't working." Which wasn't good at all. While the wounds across torso and legs had started to heal, the lungs had not made any noticeable improvement. Telithromycin had been used against pneumonia with very good results, and Mr. Morton had not demonstrated any allergies to the family of macrolides it belonged to. Since penicillin and sulfa-drugs were out of the question, Telithromycin might be their best chance of nipping pneumonia before it did any real damage.

The good news was that the concussion wasn't as bad as he'd thought. When he'd gotten the head scans, he had been relieved to note that the brain trauma was relatively mild. Still, it was a mandatory three week recovery period for concussion; time enough to allow the brain to rest and heal. If they could just ward off the pneumonia…

"Will?" Soft, but insistent, the voice captured Will's attention, and he noted that Captain Crane had sidled into Sick Bay, looking around warily, as if he thought that the doctor was going to grab him and fling him into a bunk.

"No you can't talk to him, we're trying a new antibiotic, and I fully expect it to do the job." Will crossed his arms as he met the captain's eyes. "Did I answer all your questions, sir?"

Lee Crane grinned, but didn't back down. "Not exactly. My only question was how is he? I gather from the way you're trying to head me off at the pass that he's passable, but not necessarily great." He sobered quickly. "Why a new antibiotic?"

"Because the old one didn't work," Will answered bluntly, but softened the words with a smile. "You're right, he's passable, stable, and doing much better than he was when we brought him aboard. But I'm still worried about his lungs. Hence, the new antibiotic, which is stronger, and I hope will do the job."

Lee nodded, but his concern was clearly elsewhere. "And the concussion?" He had seen first-hand how serious brain injuries could be. Will knew that the skipper's father had died, when Lee was very young, of a concussion that had been more serious than at first believed. Naturally, he would be concerned about that.

"That's not as bad as I thought at first. I've stitched the cut, and the trauma is fairly mild. We'll keep waking him every half hour until tomorrow morning, and then we'll keep him under observation for a bit. Then a few weeks rest, and he'll be fine."

Lee nodded, though his lips were drawn tight. Will knew he didn't like it when Chip was down and Mr. Bishop acted as XO. Fortunately it happened rarely. Mr. Bishop had a great many fine attributes, but for some reason he rubbed people the wrong way. Harry had stubbornly refused to see it for years; he protested Mr. Bishop's excellence, and excellent the man undoubtedly was. But it didn't matter whether he said and did all the right things or not, if the men didn't like or respect him. Will had questioned several of them about Mr. Bishop; he was no psychologist, but the situation intrigued him and worried him at the same time. Kowalski was the fairest; he acknowledged that Mr. Bishop knew his business, that he was no coward, and that he was always fair to the men. But even Kowalski had to admit that he simply didn't like the man.

 _I don't know what it is, Doc. He's not a bad guy. He knows what he's doing. I can't really put my finger on it… He just… bothers me…_

Malone and Alfaro closed their mouths, but their expressions said it all. Riley merely shrugged his shoulders and went about his business. The most outspoken was Crowe.

 _He doesn't act like a jerk, but for some reason he comes across as one. And when a guy comes across as a jerk, no one wants to have anything to do with him. I wouldn't touch the guy with a ten-foot pole, if you paid me a million dollars, Doc. There's something off about him, but there's not, if you know what I mean…_

Will actually didn't know what Crowe meant. His statement was a bit too complicated and convoluted, but Will could and did acknowledge the power of Bishop's aura. The second officer subtly repulsed men. Why was unclear. Even Lee, who was one of the fairest men Will knew, didn't like him. Harry didn't either, but his determination to be fair about it meant that he forced himself to defend the man every chance he got. The boat would probably be better served when Bishop transferred out; as a matter of fact, Bishop himself would probably be better served when he transferred out. But Bishop didn't see it that way, and in any case there wasn't a boat for him, yet. So now Lee was stuck with Bishop as acting XO for at least the next two or three weeks…

He moved to intercept Lee as the skipper headed for the bunk where his XO slept, blissfully unaware of the two people standing over him. "I told you not to wake him."

"I know, I know…" Lee did back off this time, after a good hard look. The two were good friends; it was natural that Lee would want to assure himself that Chip was okay.

Will relented a bit, therefore. "I should probably wake him in a minute or two. If you care to wait."

Lee smiled, but shook his head. "Do you know how mad he'd be if he thought anyone was making a fuss over him? No, but thanks, Will. I appreciate it." He headed for the door, but stopped when the intercom went off.

"Captain Crane, report to the Control Room. Target spotted." The voice was Mr. Bishop's, creditably calm, although Will knew that the target was another creature like the ones they'd killed in the cave.

Lee grabbed the mike in Sick Bay to answer. "On my way. Dead stop, Mr. Bishop, and please call the admiral." He glanced at Will again, and shrugged. "I'll check in again, later, Will."

The doctor watched him go, wondering at his calmness. The skipper had killed two of the things to rescue his friend. Now, he was prepared to capture one if possible to satisfy the admiral's curiosity. Will shook his head, and turned back to his patient. He had so many years of experience at this now, that he could sense the change; the eyes were still closed, but the breathing had quickened just a hair, and fingers twitched. Will bent closer, just as the blue eyes flicked open. "I was just about to wake you."

Chip coughed in answer, and Will listened, frowning. It sounded a bit wet…. But they had just started the Telithromycin; with luck it would make a difference. For the rest, the eyes were no longer as badly dilated, though they still weren't tracking as well as they should. The stitches along the jagged cut near his left eye looked raw and red, but that was to be expected. He would change the dressings on the other wounds this evening, but he wasn't too worried about them. They were numerous, and a few were fairly deep, but they weren't life-threatening.

Will checked the fluid in the IV tubes and nodded. No air bubbles, everything looked good. "We've adjusted your medication, switched to another antibiotic. How do you feel?"

"Was Lee just here?"

Avoiding the issue. Par for the course. Will sighed. "Yes, but he was called to the Control Room. Do you want to tell me how you feel, or shall I just make a guess about how much pain killer you need?"

"None." The voice was hoarse, but unmistakably authoritative. "What's happening?"

Will sighed. If he could have his way, he would keep his patient in the dark about the goings on aboard the boat, since he would undoubtedly rest easier if he weren't aware of what the admiral was doing. However, this was the one thing he had had to compromise on through the years. Mr. Morton was a far better patient than the skipper, but he did want to be clued in on everything happening on the boat. "They've spotted another of those squid things, and the skipper was called to the control room to see if it can be captured."

As expected, this news caused a frown and an instant protest. "Captured? I suppose Admiral Nelson wants a living specimen?" Chip attempted to sit up, but Will's sharp frown and warning growl made the XO settle back again against his pillows. "How does he think he's going to capture it? What does he plan to feed it? If it's a small specimen, where on board is he going to hold it? What does he plan to do with it when it reaches the size of those in the cave? Release it into the bay?" The questions came thick and fast; clearly this was a move that the XO did not approve of.

Will tried a soft rebuke. "Are you questioning Harry? Don't you think he's figured out the answers to all those questions?"

That quieted Chip, but his lips twisted in a frown as he contemplated the answer. Will shook his head; the XO wasn't always easy to read, but the doctor had a pretty good idea of what was going through his head right now. "He'll have considered the safety of the boat and the men, you know that, Chip. He won't risk anyone needlessly." He adjusted the IV again and smiled. "You need to get some rest. I'll take some chest X-rays in the morning to see how your lungs look."

Picking up the chart, he marked down his observations on it; cough still a little too wet; stitches on the temple looked good, not oozing; eyes only slightly dilated now, but still not tracking well; antibiotic switched from a mix of glycopeptides to Telithromycin. Patient looking better, but pneumonia still a very real threat. He handed the chart off to the hovering John, and headed for his office to make some notes in the XO's file. Then, just maybe, he'd head up to the Control Room to see this monster for himself…


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

The size of the thing was disquieting. Giants had, of course, existed millions of years ago, but size tended to limit survivability. Admiral Nelson glared at the thing outside the view port. Something that large would need a great deal of food… Clearly, it would have to hunt almost constantly… There were plenty of fish in the area, but enough to feed such a monster? He studied the squid through narrowed eyes. He needed the facilities and equipment on board to analyze the DNA he had produced; something to think about, along with enlarging Will's domain… For now, he had a suspicion that – if he could analyze the DNA – it would show him that this creature – far from being an ancient survival – was likely man-made, generated from the manipulation of DNA. Perhaps a scientist wanting to study a living specimen of something long-dead. The fossil proved that such a creature had once existed. But there were differences in the living creature and the ancient fossil… Enough to make Nelson suspect that some pseudo-scientist – he wouldn't give the madman the name of scientist – had created this monster squid, tailoring it to fit his needs. And he had created more than one...

Which meant this island wasn't as deserted as they had thought… With luck, whoever lived here hadn't noticed their presence yet. They hadn't gone ashore, and they hadn't surfaced. They were well-stocked, so there was no need to poke their nose above water yet. They would have to stay very well-hidden while Nelson figured out what to do about this.

The squid floated about a hundred meters in front of them, right outside the herculite windows that made Seaview unique. Purplish in hue, its trunk-like arms drifted restlessly in the water, while its two long tentacles – at least eighty feet long – quested for prey. A good thing the submarine wasn't close enough to be mistaken for something to eat…That battle would be titanic indeed, Nelson feared, and almost certain to cause casualties, perhaps fatalities…

He shook the thought away. It hung before them, clearly not aware of their presence; no movement, since Seaview hovered in the water, held in check expertly by Lee and the watch. Movement and sound would be what triggered its interest, just as he'd suspected. But its size meant that it probably couldn't move fast enough to catch prey. It would be an expert stalker. Which meant it possibly wasn't hunting at the moment; Food would be welcomed, but it wasn't really hungry right now.

It flowed lazily through the water, graceful as most squids, though its shape was more squat and round. Every now and again, a lazy flip of tentacle revealed the hooks embedded in the suckers. Very prehistoric, that trait… It was what had excited Nelson when he'd first begun working on the samples. Instead, it would undoubtedly prove to be a man-made trait based on ancient fossils. Perhaps the man who'd created this squid had found so many of the fossils in the area that he had decided to try breeding back to the ancient squid, using a combination of techniques. Dangerous without controls… And clearly there hadn't been any controls in place, or this thing's relatives wouldn't have nearly eaten his XO…

"I've seen enough, Lee. All back, dead slow."

"Very well, sir." Lee gave the requisite orders and moved forward to stand next to Nelson. "Your thoughts?"

"It's very probably man-made. And I don't like it." Nelson swung around, his eyes sweeping over the men in the control room. _A_ watch; his top rated seamen. And Will, who really had no business here, but his presence was reassuring. His patient must be doing well, if he were willing to leave Sick Bay just to get a look at this squid. Bishop, as acting XO, was capable enough. Nelson made up his mind quickly. "Lee, we need to talk. We're going to have to do something about this."

Lee nodded, a shadow of concern in his eyes, but he kept his voice light as he spoke to Bishop. "You have the conn, Mr. Bishop. Look sharp. There may be more of those things out there."

"Aye, sir. I have the conn. We'll keep a look-out," Bishop acknowledged. Lee held the man's eyes for a second, then nodded, and turned back to the admiral.

"I'm at your service, sir."

Nelson beckoned to him, glanced at Will, and waved him over too, then closed the doors between the nose and the control room. He didn't want to alarm the men, though he knew most of them would already be guessing that something was up, and the size of the creature they had found was hardly reassuring. Still, privacy would make it easier to explain his theories and field any questions from his two junior officers.

Will, true to form, spoke first, frowning in concern. "You can't mean to capture that monster, Harry! Where would we put it? How on earth…" He trailed off, shaking his head with a rueful smile. "It probably won't surprise you to know that I fielded just those same questions from our XO not more than twenty minutes ago. I told him you knew what you were doing." He frowned again, dubiously. "Do you?"

Nelson smiled, imagining the scene in Sick Bay. Chip, on the receiving end of the creature's formidable tentacles, would not have been reassured by Will's answer. It went against the grain to admit that both men were right… "No, we won't be capturing it. Now that I've had a good look at it, I have to say that it disturbs me greatly." He glanced at Lee and saw the captain nodding, clearly relieved that the plans for capturing it were out. "I don't think it's a survival from prehistoric times."

Will drew his breath in sharply, but Lee didn't turn a hair. "Genetic engineering?" The captain reached out and put a hand on Will's arm, as he asked his question; the gentle touch prevented an outburst that would probably have penetrated the bulkhead. The doctor was no fool, and he would not like the implications.

Nelson nodded grimly. "Settle down, Will. We won't be endangering any more men if we can help it, but…"

Lee picked up the train of thought, as Harry trailed into silence. "But whoever did this had no such qualms, judging from the detritus in that cave. We need to find out who he is and where he is, and put a stop to his experiments."

"Most likely, he's on that island." Harry turned toward the map of the Pacific on the wall in the nose. His fingers traced across the ocean until he reached their coordinates, and tapped on the tiny land mass pictured there. "There can't be enough food in these waters to feed three such monsters as we've seen… They were hungry enough to snatch a full-grown man and drag him to their lair. And what we saw there…."

He trailed into silence, but Lee pushed the thought to its completion. "What we saw there proved that somehow it was eating human prey. Chip wasn't the first by any stretch."

Will looked from the captain to the admiral, his face almost comical in its shock. A great doctor, he had somehow never gained the knack of cynicism where human nature was concerned. He was always shocked by what evil people could be capable of… Nelson wouldn't have had him any other way. His medical expertise was unmatched, and his control of Sick Bay was absolute. Only Lee dared to argue with him, but it was an argument the captain very seldom won. Now he shook his head and said ruefully, "I am constantly amazed at what people are capable of… Do you really think that someone on that island is feeding people to his creations?"

Nelson considered the question carefully. Much rested on his answer; a yes meant the man on that island was far more depraved than the average evil scientist… A no could mean that it was a waste of time to pursue him… But the routes around this island were rarely traveled… Nelson's boat was the first here in what probably amounted to years… So if the creature were eating people, where was it getting them? He closed his eyes and practically snarled his answer. "Yes, Will, I do think someone on that island is feeding people to that monstrosity. I have no idea how he lures them in, but it's clear that there is not enough food in these waters to naturally sustain something that large..." And there were too many human bones in that cave to discount the notion that the creature was being supplied with human fodder somehow…

After a moment of silence, frowning on Lee's part, stunned on Will's, Lee said carefully, "We'll have to put a search party on that island. It won't be easy to hide them."

Nelson nodded. Lee was right, of course. They had no idea what kind of surveillance this person had, but chances were that the level was high. Shipwrecks, mistakes that placed a lone boat in an area it had no business being in, the occasional scientist diving on the reef... These were chances to gain the food this geneticist needed for his creature. He would have to keep a very close eye on the surrounding seas...

But he couldn't watch beneath the waves. He couldn't know that Seaview was here... "What about reconnaissance?" Nelson ground the words out, not bothering to hide his anger. This person had damned near cost the admiral one of his men. He had set a level of risk that none of his diving parties had been aware of, and thus were completely unprepared for. If it hadn't been for Riley, and Lee's quick action, they might be mourning a man right now. The caliber of the admiral's people was certainly a source of pride, but the fact that he'd nearly lost one to a creature that shouldn't even exist... That was completely unacceptable. "Can we put FS1 up and get an idea of where this man might be holed up?"

Lee contemplated the question, looking at it from every angle, if Nelson knew him at all. "If we keep her below supersonic speed, and high enough that her yellow paint job and unique profile don't rouse suspicions, we might be able to pull that off." As usual, he had put his finger on the one flaw in the plan. FS1 was instantly recognizable to anyone who knew about her, and strange enough to people who had never seen or heard of her that they would remember her forever. To avoid tipping their hand, they would have to keep her high and as silent as possible. No sonic booms...

The trouble was, Lee was the best pilot for that job. And now that they were down a man, Lee absolutely couldn't be spared. It was bad enough that Mr. Bishop was acting XO. Leaving him in charge of the boat was something Nelson wouldn't ask of his men. He'd had to do it once, and Bishop had proven himself equal to the task... But the circumstances had been unusual... to say the least. His men had not objected to the situation, because there was no one else who could have been left in charge. Lee had been ashore somewhere in Pakistan, hunting out a terrorist cell for ONI, and Chip had been evacuated from the boat to Pearl with a gunshot wound that had nearly killed him. There had been no one but Lt. Com. Ned Bishop...

But now... Now Bishop was simply treading water, waiting for his assignment to another boat. Jiggs had agreed that the man was a valuable officer who deserved the chance he wouldn't get on Seaview. Surprisingly, it was Bishop himself who hadn't wanted to go, who had even asked – almost begged – to be allowed to remain on Seaview... Nelson couldn't offer him the answer he wanted; the admiral had no idea why Bishop rubbed everyone the wrong way, but he did... And since he did, leaving him in charge of the boat under these circumstances, while Lee flew reconnaissance, was not an option. "We'll have to send Sharkey up."

Lee opened his mouth to protest, thought better of it, and swallowed the words. Nelson addressed them anyway. "You can't do this job this time, Lee. We need you in the control room."

The captain nodded, though he clearly disliked the idea. "Aye, sir. And of the remaining pilots, Sharkey is the best. I'll speak to him."

Nelson sighed and glanced at Will. "We have no idea how many people are on that island. It's possible that whoever designed the creature has prisoners to dispose of. You'd better ready your Sick Bay for an influx of injuries."

Will acknowledged the order with a crisp nod and went away up the spiral stairs, leaving Nelson and the captain alone. Lee waited a moment, then said warily, "I won't stay here when a shore party goes out."

Nelson closed his eyes, knowing that if he insisted that Lee stay put he would have a battle on his hands. And if push did come to shove, Lee had his experience as an ONI agent on his side. He was the best man for the job, and he knew it. "I know that, son. But before any shore party goes out, we have to know a little bit more about the terrain. Sharkey goes up first. Then we'll see." He moved to the crash doors, pushing the button that made them glide open on their invisible tracks. As Lee went past him into the control room, he waved Francis into the nose. Time to make plans.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Sharkey angled FS1 for the best view, aware that he couldn't afford to be seen. He flew in high over the trees, looking for something – anything – that would tell him anything about the creepy scientist type that was probably hiding out on the island. It was a tricky assignment; he couldn't be seen, couldn't be heard, but had to both see and triangulate coordinates. He flipped some switches, setting the little yellow baby on autopilot, while he reached for binoculars with his other hand. Lifting them to his eyes, he studied the island and listened to the hum of the engines; the autopilot was reliable, but it wasn't meant for work like this. He would have to take over again fairly soon…

Something flashed down among the trees. Sharkey reached for the controls, angling the sub in a long banking turn. He'd seen something down there. It might be what they were looking for. As he flew again over the area, he studied the terrain with narrowed eyes. There! A cabin nestled in among the trees, nearly invisible. He glanced at the GPS and noted the coordinates. Okay, one possible locale found. But he wasn't naïve enough to think there was only one. Okay, so this scientist guy probably was the only guy on the island, but if he was genetically engineering monsters and letting them munch on people, then he wasn't going to be hanging around the same place all the time. He'd have a laboratory, hiding places, all sorts of things.

He banked the plane and headed for the cliffs on the south side of the island. Might be caves there, and caves made good hiding places. He soared up about a thousand feet, hoping to avoid being seen if the evil scientist was there.

An odd formation drew his eyes; he flew past it, but couldn't get a handle on it. Banking the plane, he flew back over it. What was that? It couldn't be a rock formation. It almost looked…

A man stepped out of it, onto the rock. Sharkey jerked FS1 upward, going high, his heart pounding. Had he been seen? Had he been heard? Was it possible that this clown had missed the bright yellow Flying Sub?

But the man still stood on the rock, looking down, not up, absorbed in either the landscape or his thoughts. Sharkey flipped on the nose camera and took a few pictures of him. Safe bet this was the scientist guy. His victims would be locked up somewhere, not allowed to roam the island.

But where would they be locked up? Sharkey angled the flying sub away from the cliffs, heading inland again. They might be held captive in the caves, but it would be criminal not to look elsewhere just in case. He flew a grid over the island but nothing else recommended itself to his notice. He couldn't be sure about the dense forest that covered the interior of the island. The trees prevented his seeing much that lay below the canopy, but the wildlife he could see in the tops of the trees didn't appear to be disturbed by anything going on below them… He thought it was probably a safe bet that there wasn't anything there, other than the cabin he'd seen earlier.

After an hour or two, frustration masquerading as sweat dampened his brow. Sharkey knew he'd been entrusted with this mission as the best pilot after the skipper and Mr. Morton… He didn't want to mess it up, and he knew he didn't have near enough information to help them find this creep and lock him away. After what he'd seen down in the littoral caves, he wouldn't have minded throwing the guy to his own squid creature…

But neither the admiral nor the skipper would go that far. They believed in law and justice; they would want this bozo to pay for what he'd done, but they'd want it to be legal, so that when he was convicted, it would stand up. Sharkey snorted and began a smooth banking turn out toward the Seaview, hidden under the waves beyond the coral reef that protected the island… The search hadn't been fruitless, he guessed… They would at least have some ideas on where to start looking for this guy. And they had some pictures, too... Maybe someone would recognize this creep. It was a slim hope at best, but a hope nonetheless.

He flew past Seaview's coordinates, out past the island's sightlines, then dove into the ocean, expertly switching from air controls to sea controls. As he proceeded submerged toward Seaview and FS1's home in the belly of the submarine, he mused on the man he'd seen on the cliffs. For some reason he couldn't put his finger on, the man had seemed familiar somehow… He traced every line of the averted face in his memory: the nose, long and somewhat crooked, like maybe it had been broken once or twice; the ear that nestled up against the side of the man's head as if it were afraid to peek out too far; the dark hair that flew wildly in the wind…

But he couldn't put his finger on what exactly seemed familiar, or who the guy was. Someone he'd seen somewhere before, he was certain... Where and when eluded him. With a sigh, he initiated docking procedures, and allowed Seaview to pull him into its belly.

The admiral was waiting when Sharkey climbed out of FS1. "Did you find anything?"

Sharkey nodded, but his first words were for Patterson. "Got some pictures, Pat. Get them developed, ASAP."

"Sure, chief." Patterson glanced at the skipper for permission to leave his station, then hopped down into FS1 to get the film out of the camera. Sharkey only hoped the pictures he'd taken were good enough...

Now he turned his attention to the admiral. "Cabin in the woods, likely hidey-hole in some caves on the cliff. Saw the man himself up there and took some pictures."

The look in the admiral's eyes was worth any effort the chief had made. He didn't often get a well-done from Admiral Nelson, but this was one time when the look on the man's face told him he'd done very well indeed, even though the boss didn't say anything. Instead, the admiral nodded. "You have the coordinates?"

"Aye, sir." Time to admit failure, even though Sharkey really didn't want to see that look of satisfaction disappear from the admiral's face. "But I didn't see anything else." There probably were other places, but they had been well-hidden. It would take several reconnaissance trips to find them, he suspected.

But Nelson still nodded in silent praise. "This is a place to start, chief. Thanks." The admiral dismissed him and turned to the chart table to plot the coordinates he'd been given.

Sharkey returned to his station behind the helm, hoping that he could finagle a place on the shore party when it went out.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Lee thumbed through the pictures, looking at each one carefully. Sharkey had gotten some good shots, though none of the man's face straight on. This man on the cliffs looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Glancing up at the admiral's impatient snort, he tossed the photos across the desk. "I don't know... He looks familiar, but I'm just not sure..."

Nelson picked the pictures up and glared at them. "He looks familiar to me, too. But I can't decide where I might know him from." He flung the photos down again and paced restlessly. "Sharkey will do another pass tonight, looking for anything else he might have missed. Then we can plan an expedition to the island. Pick your team."

Lee nodded, keeping his thoughts to himself. He was the best person to lead the team, he knew and accepted that, even looked forward to it. But he didn't like leaving the boat with Bishop. Even though the man was on his way out, just waiting for reassignment to a Navy boat, even though Nelson had spoken highly of him, even though he himself had never seen Bishop put a foot wrong, even though he'd shown his quality after the Lura affair, Lee hated leaving the man in charge of the boat. He accepted that it was a partial personality conflict, all on his side, while Bishop felt no malice toward him... He understood that Bishop had no idea how he had managed to turn the men against him. But the feeling was stronger now, when Bishop was about to leave them, than it had been before that. And he wasn't sure if it was Bishop, or if it was the fact that Bishop wasn't Chip...

Which again wasn't Bishop's fault. Lee drew a breath and rose from his chair. "Picked it already, sir. The COB, Ski, Pat, Riley, and Alfaro." He looked down at the photos again, then picked the clearest one up. "I'd like to show this to Chip, sir. Maybe he can identify the man."

Nelson nodded. "Good idea, lad." He smiled. "But don't let your visit to Sick Bay keep you from your dinner." The smile quickly died. They both knew Lee would likely need to fuel himself up since he would have limited opportunities to do so once he set foot on the island.

"No worries, sir." Lee headed for the door. "I'll let my team know that we'll be going tomorrow sometime. We'll reconnoiter and let you know what we find. But my gut says we need to take care of this fast."

The admiral nodded. "We'll take care of it fast, Lee. I hate to destroy the creature without studying it, but I don't see how we **can** safely study it..."

Lee frowned. "No, sir, it's too dangerous. You saw what it did to Chip." He shifted uncomfortably, wanting to get down to Sick Bay before dinner. He and the admiral sat in solitary splendor at the captain's table, except when the admiral was busy in his lab. Most nights this cruise, he'd been busy, and so the captain had dined alone. Now, he was tempted to visit the wardroom to see how the juniors were handling things without Chip to preside. Bishop probably wasn't as forgiving as Chip was...

But for now, he just wanted to confer with his XO about the proposed mission to the island. He suspected Chip would have some reservations about it; whatever he suggested, it would probably be sound. His input was always invaluable. "Good night, sir. Will I see you at dinner?"

The admiral grunted. "Not likely, lad. I have things to do.

Lee nodded and left Admiral Nelson to his business. Turning, he moved down the corridor, thinking about how he was going to play tomorrow's foray onto the island. Their best bet might be to approach from the south side of the island, which was thickly forested. It was new growth forest, with little undergrowth, yet. They would be able to move fairly silently through it, and the canopy would shield them from anyone spying from the cliffs. On the other hand, they wouldn't have many places to hide in among the trees. His team were experienced divers, and had been used often to extract him from his ONI missions, but they weren't forest men. Sharkey had done some hunting, and both Ski and Alfaro had been SEALs. But Riley and Pat were civilians, with no Navy experience, picked for their unique skills. They were smart and efficient, both of them, and they knew how to follow orders, but Riley spent his spare time surfing, and Pat was a photographer like his father had been. Neither of them had much experience in a forest, and certainly absolutely no experience with jungle fighting...

But the beach near the littoral cave that had started all this was wide open, easily observable from a dozen spots on the island, and the approach to the caves was probably under surveillance constantly, especially if prisoners were being kept there...

Lee sighed. He had a lot of work to do tonight, planning their route, mapping out how they would proceed. This wasn't an extraction, but it felt like an ONI mission just the same, with only one exception. This time he was responsible for a team of five men, and he had to bring them back safely...

He set his hand against the Sick Bay door, making wishes that wouldn't help him. If only Chip were on his feet, able to look after the boat; it would make everything so much easier, knowing that he wouldn't have to leave Seaview in Bishop's hands. And he had nothing against Bishop. He knew the man was more than capable of efficiently driving the boat. He just didn't care to trust Seaview to just anyone...

He had to laugh at himself then. Bishop wasn't just anyone. He was a hand-picked member of Nelson's fabulous crew. Lee just didn't like him; there were some days when he felt very guilty over that dislike, knowing that Bishop had done nothing to earn it. Then there were days like today when he simply felt uneasy about the man, without being able to put his finger on it.

Shaking his head, he pushed the door open and went in, stilling on the threshold when he heard Chip's voice.

"Yes, I know." The words carried a hint of martyrdom. "But, Will, does it have to be Jell-O?"

Lee laughed and moved into the room. "I thought he was the one who never gave you any problems, Will?"

The doctor turned in exasperation and crossed his arms, giving Lee back stare for stare. "He is. But he can be a whiner." He glanced at his patient, but didn't flinch at the icy glare. Doctor McKenzie was one of the few who could stand up to that look. "Don't give me that glare, Commander. What you were doing just now sounded very much like whining, and I even have your commanding officer as a witness."

Lee flung his hands up in denial. "Don't pull me in on this, Will!" He shot a laughing glance at his XO and caught the uplift of an answering eyebrow, followed by that slow, almost shy smile. "You were whining, you know."

"Excuse me, I am a United States Naval officer. I do not whine." Chip instilled as much dignity as possible - when in a bunk in Sick Bay - in the words.

"You look like a little boy," Will huffed, then smiled, too. "And yes, you're on a liquid diet, so it has to be Jell-O. Get over it." He eyed the two of them. "Is it safe to leave you two together while I update the commander's chart?"

Only a rhetorical question; Will turned away almost as soon as he said it, and headed for his office. Lee pulled up a chair and settled down by Chip's bunk. "You've got a long way to go if you want to cause actual trouble in here, you know. But I could give you pointers…"

"No, thanks," Chip answered promptly, lifting that expressive eyebrow again. "I'm not hankering to find myself in restraints." He eyed his tray with distaste, and pushed it away. "Did you get a look at the thing? Can I hope that the admiral came to his senses about capturing it?"

"We're not capturing it." Lee sighed and tossed the photograph down on the blankets. "Do you know who this is?"

Chip shot him a questioning glance and picked up the picture. "Bishop," he said quietly and started to hand it back, then stopped and looked at it again. "No..." There was hesitation in his voice; Lee plucked the photograph from his fingers and looked at it himself, wondering how he had missed the resemblance before.

"It can't be Bishop." The second officer had been on the boat the whole time Sharkey was in the air, reconnoitering. He definitely wasn't the man on the rocks; but there was an uncanny similarity between the two men. Bishop's hair was regulation Navy cut, not the longish, fashionable cut shown by this man. And Bishop's ears winged a bit more away from his head than this man's. But the broad, square nose, and the firm, strong chin were exactly like Bishop's, and the shape of the eyes, the width of the brow, were also dead-on. The man wasn't Bishop, but he looked enough like Bishop to be his brother... Lee looked up at the question in his XO's intense eyes. "Admiral Nelson believes the squid is the product of genetic engineering. He thinks that the creator has been feeding people to his creation..." He paused to study the photograph again.

"And he thinks that's the man?" Chip's voice was quiet, but it asked the same question that Lee had been avoiding. What was going on aboard the boat? What was Admiral Nelson planning to do? He knew that Will would have ten thousand fits if he brought Chip up to speed and caused the XO to rebel against the doctor's regimen… But if he didn't bring Chip up to speed, he would be the one feeling the heat from his ultra-efficient XO.

Lee made his decision, laid the photo across his knees and met those eyes with a direct stare. "We have to stop him. If that's what's really going on here, we have to end it. So tomorrow, I'm taking a crew out, and we'll end it."

He knew the man too well to believe in the calm, unruffled facade; the lift of that eyebrow, the heightened intensity in those blue eyes told him that tension roiled just below the surface, effectively hidden from sight, but not at all absent. But the only reaction he got was a hiss of indrawn breath, and then a quiet, unperturbed answer. "I trust you have some kind of plan?"

Not yet... But he would have. No need to worry anyone needlessly. Lee skillfully changed the subject. "I should ask Bishop about this picture. The guy looks enough like him to be related."

The blue eyes narrowed, indicating an unwillingness to drop the subject of tomorrow's expedition, but Chip followed his lead, however reluctantly. "He has a brother, I think... Had... I remember granting him leave a couple of years ago to attend the brother's funeral."

And he'd undoubtedly updated Bishop's file at the same time. Chip kept up with the men's files, far more religiously than Lee did. Oh, Lee knew them every bit as well; he just didn't delve into their files, keeping abreast of all the things that so often went unsaid. Chip felt it to be his job not just to vet all the men, but to continue checking on them, to be sure that all was as it should be. He had been forced to give most of his paperwork to Dolores, but he still kept up with what was going on in each of the men's lives. Because no one could ever be sure what might set a man off – their sonar operator, Steven Nash, was proof of that – but also because the personal touches were always appreciated by men who were in cramped quarters day in and day out for weeks and sometimes months on end. All of them knew the XO kept tabs on them, but none of them thought much about it. They welcomed the quiet word dropped in their ears, when congratulations or condolences were in order. It was a sign that their officers knew them well and cared.

Lee leaned back in his chair, contemplating the wall without really seeing it. "So, not a brother... Probably no relation at all, despite the resemblance, but better safe than sorry. I'll have a word with Bishop."

"If it is somebody he knows, you might take Bishop along with you tomorrow." Chip's elegant hands lay quietly on the blankets, but there was a tension in him that told Lee he worried about the expedition. "He might give you the edge."

"Or not." If it was somebody Bishop knew, the second officer just might sabotage the mission, too. He knew that neither Chip nor the admiral, both bending over backwards to be fair to the man would believe that. But the mission was Lee's, and he had to go with his gut...

If only his gut instincts agreed with the dislike he felt. And if anything told him that his feelings about Bishop were misguided, it was the clear instinct that Bishop could be trusted, that no matter how much he rubbed people the wrong way, he himself would do the right thing without hesitation. He held up a hand to forestall the protest he saw building in his friend's eyes, and admitted his fault. "I know. I know. Bishop is completely trustworthy. I agree." He spread his fingers helplessly. "I don't know why I don't like him. He does a good job, and he tries very hard." Shaking his head, he rose from his chair. "Will would kill me if I wore you out, so get some rest. And don't worry about the expedition. We'll be fine."

"You're flying by the seat of your pants, aren't you?" The words cut directly to the heart of the matter, showing Lee how well his XO knew him. "Will you promise me you'll at least come up with the rudiments of a plan tonight?"

Lee grinned as he headed for the door. "Hey, I always have a plan. You may not like my plan, but I always have one!" He paused at the door. "No chance Will will release you to duty, huh?"

Chip snorted in disgust. "Will says I'll be lucky if I don't come down with pneumonia, and promises that it will be at least four weeks before I'm fit for duty again." He heaved a long-suffering sigh. "I suppose he's right... Damn squid..."

Lee's lips twisted in a sympathetic frown. "Hey, blame the scientists, not the squid..."

"I hope you're excluding me from that blanket statement, Lee." Admiral Nelson entered Sick Bay gruffly, and shooed his captain out the door. "Go on, and get some supper. I need to talk to Will."

Lee met Chip's eyes and shook his head with a sigh. "Consider yourself excluded, sir." He glanced mischievously at the admiral, through his lashes, knowing how Nelson hated that trick. "This time, anyway!" With a laugh, he beat a hasty retreat, heading for his cabin and whatever meal Cookie had managed to whip up.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Lt. Com. Ned Bishop sat rigidly on the edge of the chair. He wasn't often called to the captain's cabin; when he was, he did a lot of soul-searching, trying to figure out what he'd done wrong. That he had done something wrong, he never doubted. It had been drilled into him since he was very small that he was neither as smart, nor as ambitious as his older brother and sister. Cam and Sukey had gotten all the brains and all the looks in the family, and as a result had gotten the drive to make the most of their opportunities. Oh, yes, he'd known for years that nothing he could accomplish would ever make the grade when measured against Cam's and Sukey's accomplishments.

It was why he had lobbied so hard for this berth. He knew that Captain Phillips thought he was a good officer; he had served under the captain for two years, before Phillips had left the Navy to join Admiral Nelson's team. Ned had used his years of good FitReps on every vessel he'd ever served on, and Captain Phillips' good opinion of him to leverage a spot on Seaview, thinking that finally, something he did would make his parents sit up and take notice... Sad, really that here he was, a Lt. Com. in the Navy, and still he wanted so badly to make his parents proud of him...

Instead, he had tried too hard, and the crew had taken a dislike to him. He knew he was making a hash of things, but he couldn't seem to regain the respect he'd lost, no matter what he did. He knew where Admiral Nelson was coming from, when they'd had that conversation several months ago... The one where the admiral gently pointed out that things simply weren't working. The one where he was effectively dismissed from the one boat he had ever really wanted to serve on. Oh, his parents would notice that all right... His sister would write a soft, sympathetic letter, but behind it he would be able to feel her sarcasm, her contempt... Cam was dead, or he would hear his brother's disgust loud and clear over the phone... His parents wouldn't acknowledge one way or the other what had happened.

Nothing was ever good enough for them. Top ten percent of his class at Annapolis, Must Promotes on all of his FitReps, rapid rise through the ranks, and a berth on the most prestigious boat in or out of the Navy... But none of it was good enough...

He'd kept all of that inside, though. No need for anyone else to know... He lifted his chin to meet Captain Crane's eyes, and tuned into his voice.

"... photo of the man who's likely responsible. I thought you might know him." Captain Crane handed him a photograph. Ned struggled to hide his surprise. He hadn't expected the captain to fill him in on the operation; he wasn't the XO, nor was he anyone the captain liked to deal with. He could feel the dislike coming off Captain Crane, every time they were in the same room together. Personality conflicts did happen sometimes, and he was grateful that the captain did his best to hide the disapproval; there had never been any reason to fear that the captain was undermining him. That just didn't happen aboard Seaview…

He took the photo and looked down at it curiously. The COB had supposedly taken it on a reconnaissance of the island this morning, and it was a fairly good photo. As good as any photo could be taken from that height. FS1's camera was the best that money could buy...

He zeroed in on the man in the picture, and struggled to hide his frown. This couldn't be the picture that Sharkey had taken this morning. They were trying to trick him for reasons unknown... But he knew this photo couldn't have been taken anytime in the last two years. He looked up, lifting his eyebrows as he stared at Captain Crane. "Where did you get this, sir?"

Captain Crane frowned, but he explained again patiently. "Chief Sharkey took it this morning as he flew over the island. On the cliffs above the caves."

Ned shook his head and respectfully corrected the captain. "Sir, my brother has been dead for two years or more. Sharkey couldn't have taken this picture this morning."

For a moment, he thought that Captain Crane had frozen, he was so still. Then he leaned forward and said decisively, "That is your brother? You're sure?"

Why wouldn't he be sure? Dr. Cameron Bishop was one of the most noted geneticists in the country when he'd been killed in the plane crash two years ago. If he knew anyone, Ned knew his brother. Cam's accomplishments had been thrown in his face since he was in grade school.

 _Why can't you be like Cam? Cam is the star of the football team. Cam is going to Princeton. Why can't you get into Princeton? Why would you want a career in the Navy? Cam is going to be a doctor! Why can't you be interested in something important like Cam and genetics? Cam is going to change the world. What are you going to do?_

Cam had been the good son; the smart one, the one who was going to make something of himself. And Ned had been the disappointment; the one who would never amount to anything. He had spent his whole life trying to disprove that...

He supposed his parents loved him, wanted desperately for them to approve of him, but somehow they had always seemed distant, disapproving, condescending... Cam had gotten their smiles and their approval, Sukey, their wholehearted adoration. Ned had had to work hard not to resent his siblings for that...

"It's Cam. But I don't know where it was taken." He paused then finished the thought. "He was killed in a plane crash two years ago." He still held the photo, but his fingers trembled ever so slightly. He couldn't be mistaken in the man. He knew his brother so very well... But the place... It did look like the island whose waters they were currently surveying for brain coral.

But that just wasn't possible. Sukey had identified Cam's body. She wouldn't have lied... Would she? Sukey had been devastated. She and Cam had always been close; united in looking down on their younger brother, who couldn't do anything right. Surely Sukey would have known if Cam weren't dead...

And then another more chilling thought: Cam was a world renowned geneticist... And the monster squid they had tracked down hours ago was probably genetically engineered...

Cam could have done it. Cam would have done it. He never had had much use for the rules that governed his work. He'd broken them as often as he could get away with it. If everyone had thought he was dead, there wouldn't be any rules left to hem him in...

The photograph dropped from nerveless fingers; Ned realized with embarrassment that his hands were shaking. "Cam's dead. I went to the funeral two years ago… He's dead…" The words sounded hollow even to him; he shivered as if the room had suddenly turned cold. "How could he be alive?"

Captain Crane bent to retrieve the picture and laid it on his desk. His voice was soft, gentle, almost kind… "Mr. Bishop. What did your brother do?"

Ned looked up and met those dark eyes, still unable to grasp the enormity of this development. Cam had died in that plane crash; surely that much was indisputable? And yet… It had been a closed casket. Sukey had made the arrangements, and she had wept as she told Ned that Cam's body was too mutilated, that it wasn't fit to be seen by their parents, by Cam's friends and colleagues… Those tears had surely been genuine, hadn't they? "He… was a geneticist…" He hesitated to say the name; no one ever associated the brilliant if undisciplined geneticist, Dr. Cameron Bishop, with the frigid, thoroughly average, brutally self-disciplined Lt. Com. Ned Bishop. They were so unlike in character… "Dr. Cameron Bishop…"

He saw the dark eyes widen, saw the eyebrows fly upwards in surprise. Once again, he was being compared to his brother and found wanting. He looked away then, not wanting to see the confusion that inevitably followed the revelation that a world-class geneticist was his brother…

"Dr. Cameron Bishop?" The voice held a hard tone of contempt that seemed out of place. Ned stole a glance at the captain and looked away again hastily. That wasn't admiration in Captain Crane's eyes... "Admiral Nelson turned down his proposal three years ago to clone a Great White. There were no safeguards in the program, and Dr. Bishop seemed to have no concept of control… The admiral called him a…" The words trailed off, as if the captain had suddenly realized to whom he was speaking. "Forgive me, Mr. Bishop. I realize he's your brother…"

Ned shook his head, one part of his mind surprised at the condemnation of a man who had been universally admired. Clearly, there were different standards here... Standards that Cam had fallen short of; standards that he also had failed to live up to... If Cam couldn't cut it on Seaview, Ned should never have tried... He stared at his fingers, watching them twist in his lap as if they had minds of their own. "No need to apologize, sir…" He paused, then returned to his last question. "But he's dead… How could he…?"

The captain's voice was stern, but surprisingly, placed no blame. "I think it's safe to say he's not dead, Mr. Bishop. He's on that island, and we are going to have to find him."

Ned cleared his throat and rose, standing at attention. "I want to go with you tomorrow, sir."

Captain Crane leaned back in his chair and contemplated Ned, his eyes hooded and wary, the ONI officer uppermost now. "I'm not sure that's a good idea. I need you here to command the boat."

Ned almost laughed. Those words were meant for Mr. Morton, not for him. Mr. Morton knew how to keep the men on an even keel, working hard, even when the captain was away. Ned had had control of the boat only once for an extended period of time. He'd done his best; he always did his best. But nothing he'd done would have satisfied Captain Crane. Of that, he was sure. "If it's Cam… If, sir. I know him better than any man here. I can be of more use to you ashore than here on the boat. And Mr. O'Brien is completely qualified to serve as her commander while you're gone, sir."

The dark eyes continued to regard Ned, until he wanted desperately to fill the silence; only his rigid self-discipline kept him still and silent under that cold scrutiny. It surprised him when the captain finally spoke. "I'm inclined to agree with you, Mr. Bishop. I'll let the admiral know that you will be coming with me in the morning. You're dismissed."

Ned saluted crisply; a reflex, since the salute wasn't always strictly necessary on this boat. Turning, he left the captain's cabin, amazed that for once he had carried his point… It wasn't until he reached his bunk in the junior officers' quarters that he gave in to the anger and disbelief that his brother was alive, and worse, a murderer…


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Lee crept out onto the beachhead under the moon, looking for any surprises. He could feel his team creeping out of the ocean behind him, their black wetsuits glistening in the faint moonlight. With a jerk of his head, he motioned them in under the trees. Best to get out of sight as soon as possible. It was three hundred hours, and likely no one would be awake, but this Dr. Cameron Bishop was an unknown quality. Even Bishop couldn't tell him much; and what the man could tell him was clearly painful. Lee had found himself questioning the very basic information in the man's file, wondering if Bishop were a risk after all…

A conversation with his XO had changed his mind about that. Chip had been very direct about the information that had been kept out of Lt. Com. Bishop's file. " _He's had a rough time, Lee. Nothing physical, but then I'm living proof that psychological scars are every bit as ugly as physical ones. He's not a risk. And if he can help you, he will. Cut him a break for once."_

So Lee had; it hadn't come easy, but if Chip felt that strongly about the man… If Admiral Nelson had felt that strongly about the man, then the two most intelligent people he knew couldn't both be wrong. He had been forced to look at Ned Bishop through different eyes. In doing so, he began to recognize the signs he should have seen long ago…

The instinctive direction of his gaze downward when Lee walked near him or spoke to him; the tightness about his features when he forced himself to look Lee in the eyes; the way he tried – often unsuccessfully – to blend into the background… He did his job with a quiet efficiency, but he tried so hard with the men – with Lee himself – that he was ham-fisted, completely alienating them. And he knew that, and took it hard…

But his FitReps had been very good, year after year. He had been highly respected by Captain Phillips, who had brought Bishop with him when he came to Seaview. And he knew his business. Lee had been able to tell that right off. Inability to perform was not his problem; rather it was wanting so much that made him awkward. Lee began to appreciate Nelson's decision to transfer him elsewhere. On another boat, with another chance, Bishop would have every opportunity to learn from his mistakes...

But now wasn't the time to be analyzing where Bishop had messed up; or where Lee himself might have misjudged. Now that they were finally on the island, finally beginning a mission that could be life or death, he had to focus on the job at hand.

He beckoned to the second officer and the COB, and pulled an oilskin map out of his pack. Crowe, an amateur, but ardent cartographer, had made the map last night, checking it and rechecking it against the terrain that Sharkey had photographed from FS1. Now, Lee unrolled it and crouched down to share with Bishop and Sharkey his bare bones outline of a plan. "We'll take the cabin first, here." A finger stabbed at the map, indicating the x in the woods that marked the cabin's position. "There's a strong possibility we'll find our mad scientist there." He avoided giving the mad scientist his name, not wanting to draw attention to the fact that the man was Bishop's brother. "If we do, then we'll split up. One group will take the man back to the boat. The other will go on to the caves and see if there are any prisoners to rescue." His finger slid along the oilskin to tap the location of the caves in the cliffs. "If we don't find our man at the cabin, then we'll continue on to the caves and see what we can see." He looked up, eyeing both men to be sure they understood. "Once we reach the caves, we'll split up. Mr. Bishop, you'll take Riley and Alfaro and circle around. Try to find another entrance. You're our back-up should we need it."

And it also kept Bishop out of the action, in case Lee needed to deal harshly with his brother. No need for the man to be in on the kill. It was hard enough being asked to track and capture his own flesh and blood; impossible should Lee have to kill the man to protect the innocent.

"COB, you and I, Ski, and Pat will head into the caves and reconnoiter. We'll need to get a handle on how many people are involved in this and where they are." He looked from one to the other, noting carefully their tight expressions. "Any questions?"

Bishop opened his mouth, but nothing came out. After a moment, he shook his head and glanced at Sharkey. The chief had weathered too many of Lee's plans to have any questions about this one. He nodded cheerfully and rose, making his way toward the men who stood a few yards away.

Lee turned to Bishop. "Worried about your brother?"

Bishop looked up, startled, and shook his head firmly. "He got himself into this, sir. If it is him."

Lee held his eyes for a moment, then dismissed him with a nod. He watched the second officer gather Alfaro and Riley together and talk to them softly. Clearly, Bishop knew what was expected of him and was prepared to do what needed to be done. Still, it would be best to take care of Dr. Cameron Bishop as quickly and surely as possible, providing as painless a conclusion to this mission as he could for Bishop's sake.

Soon, all the men were up to speed, and had gathered around, ready to follow Lee into the woods. He didn't really expect to find anyone at the small cabin, but it had to be checked, on the outside chance. They would neutralize anyone they found there and head on to the cliffs. Not the most detailed plan, but certainly a workable one. He led his men on, keeping to the shadows under the trees. Their wetsuits glistened a bit, droplets of salt water catching the moonlight, but they would still be indistinguishable from dew on the branches of the trees. Lee cocked an ear to the men who followed him, satisfied that they were silent as mice, scurrying through the forest at the best speed they could manage.

There were animal trails, but Lee avoided them for the most part. On the trails, his men would be noticeable; in the deep darkness under the trees, they were bare shadows, invisible to anyone who might be looking. It made for rougher going, but these men – with the possible exception of Bishop – were used to rough going, especially on a mission for their captain.

It took less time than expected to work through the underbrush, and reach the cabin. As soon as he saw it looming out of the shadows, Lee held up his hand to stop his men's silent approach. Seconds later, Sharkey and Bishop materialized at his side, awaiting instructions. He had expected Sharkey's approach, but Bishop surprised him. The man wasn't used to this kind of work, and yet he seemed to be a natural at it... "COB, take Ski and Pat around to the back. If someone leaves, don't interfere. Just watch where they go. Mr. Bishop, you and your men are with me. We'll give you five minutes, chief."

The chief nodded and melted away into the night, beckoning Ski and Pat with him. Lee glanced at his diving watch, appreciating the lighted dial. Five minutes was an interminable time to spend waiting as silently as possible, but it would take at least that long for the COB to get in place. Lee counted the minutes silently, watching the second hand make its long, weary way five times around the dial. Then he looked up, and waved Bishop toward the window. The second officer moved quietly, slipping up to the window, followed by Riley and Alfaro. Alfaro flattened himself against the house on one side of the window, Riley on the other, while Bishop ducked down below the sill. After a moment, he rose up slowly, took a glance through the window, then dropped down again and shook his head at Lee.

No one visible through the window. But the cabin was dark. Someone might still be inside. Lee slipped up onto the porch, and went flat against the wall by the door. Wait and breathe, second after second. No sound from inside, not even a snore. He reached out gently and touched the door knob with one gloved hand, feeling it solid under his touch. Wait and breathe again... After a few seconds, he slowly twisted the door knob, feeling it turn easily in his grasp. A gentle push sent the door moving inward a few whispering inches. Lee waited a few seconds more, then risked a glance inside... All seemed quiet. He began to doubt that he would find anyone here after all.

Bishop moved up beside him, sending him a questioning glance. Lee shook his head and held up a hand to indicate that he wanted the second officer to wait. No need to risk anyone else. He drew in air, and held it in his lungs, then slipped through the crack in the door.

No outcry; no sudden flash as the lights came on. After a moment, his eyes adjusted to the deeper dark in the cabin, and he could see that no one was here in this room. A table off to the left was empty, the chairs lonely sentinels that loomed out of the darkness. Off to his right, a sofa and a television set marked the living room. Further back to the right was a yawning doorway that probably led to the kitchen. In front of him was another doorway. He glanced back, saw Bishop peeking anxiously in, and beckoned to him. As Bishop entered, he waved Riley and Alfaro toward the door on the right, but he came up to Lee, waiting quietly at his side. Right... Okay, so now even Bishop was acting like a watchdog. Lee held in a sigh, and headed for what was probably the bedroom door, right in front of him. Bishop followed silently.

A quick glance inside was sufficient. There was no one in the bed, and no one anywhere else either. To be safe, Lee pulled open the closet door, but it was empty. He glanced at Bishop and shrugged, then went back out into the main room. Alfaro and Riley awaited him, shaking their heads in silence. Lee led the way out the door. The cabin had been a bust after all, and now they had no option but to head to the caves. It was not where he would have chosen for a confrontation; round one to Dr. Cameron Bishop, apparently. He slid silently around the house to consult with Sharkey.

"All clear, sir," the chief whispered as they came close. So no one had left the cabin as they'd entered. Not surprising; the place hadn't been used for awhile. Lee suspected that Dr. Bishop was living in the caves full-time. Not the most comfortable place to build a laboratory, but certainly the best as far as secrecy was concerned.

"We'll head to the cliffs. Mr. Bishop, you know what to do. Remember, if you find an alternate way in, pursue it carefully. I don't want to lose any men."

"Aye, sir." The second officer didn't say much else; Lee could tell that he was wound tightly, and wished there were something he could say to settle the man down. Instead, he just nodded and led them on, toward the cliffs, wondering what they would find there...


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

They parted at the cliffs. Ned watched Captain Crane and the men in his party don their harnesses, preparing to ascend the cliffs. The caves were higher up on the inward side of the island. His men had helped set the ropes for the ascension, before Ned had beckoned to them.

He would take the longer path, along the edge of the cliffs, toward the seaward side, to find another way in. It was a safe bet that if Cam were up there, doing the unthinkable, he would have planned a way out if it ever became necessary. Likely that way out would be through a series of caves and tunnels to the shore where he could motor away on a boat, or a raft… There would be an escape method. And they would find it…

The thought made him feel dirty, disloyal, a disgrace to his family. Instead of trying to catch Cam, he should be trying to aid him. That's what Cam would expect, what Sukey would expect… Probably what his parents would expect…

He wondered if they had all known that Cam was alive; had they kept the secret from him, because they didn't trust him? Were they afraid he would tell the world that the brilliant Dr. Cameron Bishop hadn't died in a plane crash after all? Did they think he wouldn't condone what Cam was doing now…?

They were right; he couldn't begin to believe that Cam – even brilliant, undisciplined, impatient Cam – would have created that monster they'd seen from the boat, would have fed human beings to it… But Captain Crane and Admiral Nelson were positive that he had. All they needed was proof; all they wanted was to stop Cam before he murdered more innocents…

Alfaro tapped his shoulder and pointed to a path leading off toward the beach. Nice catch; it was faint, indicating that it wasn't well-traveled. They could make their way down it without fear of being caught. He nodded and motioned the two men to follow him.

He knew why he'd been relegated to this duty. Captain Crane was trying to protect him from the pain of arresting his brother. He didn't know if he should have protested. Would the captain have expected him to protest? He didn't lack for courage, but the last thing he wanted was to face Cam down as an enemy… Cam would never forgive him for it. Sukey and the rest of the family would never forgive him either… He didn't know whether to be glad or sorry about that…

But he couldn't help thinking that perhaps he shouldn't have agreed so quickly to the stipulations. Maybe he should have argued more; what would Captain Crane have done?

He snorted softly, holding back the derogatory laughter; if the captain knew that he asked himself that before every mission… He would never live it down, especially now, when he was destined to leave the only boat he really wanted to serve on…

Oh, the admiral had promised him an XO's berth, had even flattered him by telling him he was more than ready for it… There were times when he himself felt that he was more than ready for it… But then the voices began nagging at him again…

 _Why can't you be like Cam? Look what he accomplished in his life! He's won awards, was nominated for a Nobel Prize… What have you done? Why can't you be like Sukey? A notable research physician with achievements beyond what you could ever do…. Why can't you amount to something, son? What is this Navy fixation? Do you think you're going to be the next Admiral Nelson?_

It was a stupid question, and he hadn't dignified it with an answer. There was only one Admiral Nelson. But all Ned had ever hoped for was the chance to work with him, to serve on Seaview. He would have scrubbed the decks if that had been what it took to get him a berth… Instead he was being dismissed, sent back to the Navy with the milksop promise of a position as XO on some boat that didn't matter nearly as much…

The soft slap of waves against the shore roused him from his black thoughts. He held up a hand to stop his men and crouched down, listening. It was important to keep his mind on the task at hand, now. They were supposed to cut off Cam's escape; knowing his brother, Cam had more than one path out of the caves, so their chances of foiling his getaway were not good. But he would do the best he could under the circumstances and hope that it would be enough…

Riley pointed silently to the dark hole of a cave looming nearby, facing the water. Ned nodded at him and scuttled toward it, still crouching, trying to keep his shape as disguised as possible. Riley and Alfaro followed him silently. As they neared the cave, he pulled out a penlight, motioning his men to do the same.

They advanced into the cave, exploring its reaches quickly. Dead end; this cave wouldn't lead them to Cam. One by one, they left it, and moved on. Ned focused on his task, but he couldn't help wondering whether Captain Crane and his men were in place by now… What had they found? He prayed that after all they'd all been mistaken in the photo, that it wasn't Cam who had made that thing out there in the ocean… Oh, how he hoped it wasn't really Cam…

They explored three more caves before they finally hit the jackpot… There was a small opening at the back of the fourth that Riley – the smallest of them – wriggled through. In a few moments he was back, breathless with excitement. There was an ascending pathway beyond the opening. This was probably what they were looking for…

It was a tight squeeze for Ned; he wasn't fat, but he carried more bulk in the form of muscle and weight than the two sailors with him. Still, he scraped through and waited alertly on point while Alfaro and Riley followed. The younger sailor had been right. The pathway gently sloped upward, but there were places where they had to crawl, because the rock ceiling lowered alarmingly. Once they had to wriggle through on their bellies. It seemed unlikely that this passage would be a satisfactory escape route, but they had to explore its farthest reaches… No stone unturned…

Ned glanced at his watch as they moved inexorably forward; this was taking too much time. Thirty minutes had passed since they'd parted at the base of the cliffs. By now Captain Crane and his men would be in position, searching through the caves. By now, given the captain's expertise in missions like this, they'd probably found their man and had him in custody…

But he couldn't worry about that. Setting his shoulders, he moved on, turning sideways to scrape past a rock that almost blocked the way…

Once past the rock, the sound of voices came faintly to his ears. He snapped off his penlight, and crouched, feeling the immediate echo of his actions by the two men with him. They hunkered there in the dark, straining their ears, listening tensely.

The voices were a good distance ahead of them. Ned slowly moved forward in the dark, feeling his way with hands and feet. It wouldn't do to show a light now. He eased closer to the voices, feeling the hot breath of his men on the back of his neck. Their safety and the success of this mission depended on him now…

As they drew closer, inch by agonizing inch, Ned began to make out the voices more clearly. One he recognized almost before he realized he had, feeling the tension in his shoulders and back, just like he always had whenever Cam spoke to him; the timbre of the voice was unmistakable… He closed his lips over the moan of despair that rose from the depths of his soul… He had mourned his brother, even missed his brother. He had never expected to find him again in a cave on an island that was almost literally uncharted…

Light began to permeate the darkness, at first only a soft glow ahead of them. Cam's voice was raised, but it held that arrogant assurance that had always made Ned feel like a cockroach. Now he was finally able to make out the words…

"Here I am, captain. Crane, isn't it? I must admit I wasn't expecting visitors." The voice purred with satisfaction, but Ned felt the tension in the men with him. He gripped Riley's arm as the younger man tried to push ahead, shoving him back toward Alfaro.

"They don't know we're here." His voice was the barest whisper. "We have the advantage of surprise." He stilled, motioning to tell them what he wanted them to do. Riley was hot-headed and eager; not an asset in this kind of work. He directed the young sailor to watch their backs, shaking his head at Riley's clear disappointment. Alfaro he sent off to the right, looking for another passage, while he himself eased closer.

One of the voices was more distant; probably Captain Crane's. Ned still couldn't quite make out what he was saying, but it was certain to be defiant. His men were quiet; they might not have been detected yet. If not, they would be an ace in the hole for Ned and Alfaro. He moved forward an inch or two at a time.

"Don't worry, Captain. You won't share the fate of your men. I'm afraid your life will be cut rather... short." Again, Cam's voice held satisfaction; this time it was followed by a sound that Ned knew only too well: the sound of a weapon being readied. Cam was going to shoot Captain Crane.

There was no more time to waste. Ned rose to his full height and shot forward down the corridor, springing into the fully lit room at the end. "No!" Cam had taken aim; Captain Crane was balanced on the balls of his feet, ready to move. Ned flung himself between them, diving to take the captain down, and barely heard the roar of the gun going off…


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

 _(a few minutes earlier)_

The darkness seemed to breathe like a living thing. Lee stood still for a moment, allowing his eyes to adjust; his men followed his lead. Soon, he began to see the shadowy bulk of the walls, sparking a brief second of claustrophobia before he was able to thrust back the instinctive fear of the rock looming above him. Caves never felt like a safe place to him, though they often attracted his interest. On a mission, sometimes a cave was the difference between life, sheltered in its dark embrace, and death...

He shook the thought away and crept forward. The ascent to this cave had been simple enough; the ledge from Sharkey's photographs had been easy to recognize. They had swarmed up the cliff face like ants, and easily attained their goal. Now to find Dr. Cameron Bishop before he could cause any trouble for them...

He eased forward stealthily, controlling his breathing, crouching to conceal his shape, using all the tricks he'd learned over a career that spanned a decade. His men were better suited to this work than they had any right to be. He had used some of them too often for his ONI missions, not to mention that they were used to extracting him, sometimes from very dangerous situations indeed. Sometimes he second-guessed himself about the wisdom of that, but he was glad they were here now, at his back.

He turned his head toward the sudden small draft that drifted across his face. An opening. He bit his lip, then waved Sharkey and Pat down that passageway, watching them disappear, dark shapes against darkness. He and Ski couldn't wait for them. He eased forward again, moving carefully and quietly, Ski a shadow at his back. This was dangerous work, now; in the woods, they had had a clear objective and good light to see by. In these caves, they were working blind.

He laid his hand against the cold stone walls, feeling the rough, protruding angles and the deep recesses in the rock. Somewhere in this cave, Dr. Bishop waited, a spider at the center of a black web.

A whispered footstep sounded in front of him, down the passage. He stopped immediately, and crouched down lower, peering into the darkness. Someone was ahead of them; his hand rested on the gun at his hip. He rarely carried openly; the weight of a weapon might slow him down. But it was insane to go into this situation without something with which to defend himself. He felt Ski's hand on his shoulder and nodded.

Carefully, carefully they eased forward again, ears straining to hear the least sound. He had expected to hear the footsteps again, but there was nothing. Lee drew his breath in silently. He didn't like this; it almost felt as if the spider were expecting them...

He wished now that he hadn't sent Sharkey and Pat down that alternate tunnel. What if something happened to him?

He cut the thought off brutally. He couldn't control a situation with so many unknowns; he could only roll with the punches, and hope that he landed on his feet. Ned Bishop was his ace in the hole. Depending on the man didn't come easy, but he had no choice. He kept moving forward, forcing down the worry for his men. He had to trust them to take care of themselves now.

There it was again; the barest whisper of a footstep ahead of them. He paused again, frowning. This was beginning to feel like a trap. But there was no way Dr. Bishop could have known they were coming...

 _Unless Ned Bishop had told him..._ The traitorous thought tickled the edges of his brain and he gritted his teeth against it. Bishop was no turncoat. He hadn't even known his brother was alive. There was no way he could have let Dr. Bishop know that they were coming...

He oozed forward again, so slowly that he could hear and perhaps forestall whatever waited for them ahead. As if sensing that a confrontation were coming, Ski moved up beside him, glancing at him as if for instructions. Instructions he didn't have. If this were a trap, they had no way of knowing what was waiting for them. Even if it weren't, they couldn't possibly foresee what was coming. They could only step toward it bravely...

Step by step, forward at a slow crawl, listening hard to the silence ahead and behind. There were no more footsteps; no more sound at all, except the sound of his own breathing, and Ski's, almost silent in the darkness of the cave...

And no warning at all, when – suddenly – lights flooded the room they had just entered, blinding them both. Ski drew in air in a hiss as he was grabbed from behind, but no one touched Lee. He swung toward Ski, making out the shadows struggling, before his eyes adjusted and he realized that his men were all present, all held captive. And Dr. Cameron Bishop stood facing him, a smile on his face... They had been expected after all. Lee cursed Bishop silently – He must have betrayed them after all - and straightened, facing the gun in Dr. Bishop's hand.

"Here I am, captain. Crane, isn't it? I must admit I wasn't expecting visitors." The geneticist smiled in amusement. "I thought I had found the perfect hiding place." His voice was almost a purr. "Imagine my surprise, when my men found your sailors sneaking around the dungeon." He laughed soullessly. "But it's okay. I was running out of fodder anyway." He glanced aside when the COB gave a wordless snarl. "Temper, temper, chief."

He focused back on Lee. "You're a danger, however. I know about your ONI experience. Don't worry, Captain." He checked the cylinder of the gun casually. "You won't share the fate of your men. I'm afraid your life will be cut rather... short." Pulling the hammer back, he took careful aim.

"No!" The voice was Ned Bishop's unmistakably. Lee was unprepared for his sudden appearance, lunging wildly through a dark opening behind his brother, leaping between the geneticist and Lee. The captain tried to wave him off, but Bishop dove at him, just as the gun in Cameron Bishop's hand went off.

The second officer's dead weight carried him down as Cam roared in frustration. Lee couldn't see what was happening, and rolled to get Bishop off him as quickly as possible, to see if he could salvage the situation…

Dr. Cameron Bishop was struggling against Alfaro's hold; Chief Sharkey had wrenched free of his captor and leaped forward, wrenching the gun away from the geneticist, and grimly turning it on the men who were holding Pat and Ski. Pat tore free and hastily grabbed Dr. Bishop as well, helping Alfaro subdue him.

Ski shoved his captor away and moved in close to Lee, setting the captain aside gently as he knelt by Ned Bishop. "Excuse me, sir." Those words were for Lee. The next ones were hearty and loud in the room, as if he could infuse the atmosphere with the warmth and cheer that it lacked. "You'll be okay, sir. Just let me have a look."

Lee moved over, to have a look himself, concerned that Bishop hadn't gotten up, hadn't moved, hadn't spoken. The gun had gone off… Had he been hit? He scooted closer, right next to Ski, and eased Bishop's head into his lap. Once again, he'd misjudged the man... Naturally, he hadn't betrayed them. Bishop was better than that. "How does it look, Ski?"

The sailor shook his head, his lips pressed together grimly. Not good… Lee pasted a smile on his face and said, "What were you thinking, Ned? I had everything under control." As under control as it could be when Dr. Bishop had surprised them. Lee could have kicked himself; he'd taken every precaution, but still the man had gotten the drop on them.

Bishop's hand reached out, trembling and directionless. Lee took it in his, and was surprised at the strength of the grip, as if he had thrown the man a lifeline, and Bishop didn't dare let go. "Sir…"

The voice was weak. Lee had to bend over to hear it. "Don't try to talk, Ned. Let Ski stabilize you."

But he already knew, from the cold, clammy feel of the hand, and the beads of sweat on Bishop's face that Ski couldn't stabilize him. The man had thrown himself in front of Lee to save him, and his brother's shot had killed him. Lee tried to wrap his head around that, feeling obscurely guilty that he had never liked Bishop, and yet the man had sacrificed himself.

"Just lie still, sir, and let me stop the bleeding." Ski gently turned Bishop on his side, to reach the wound in his back, but the look he cast Lee told the tale. There was really nothing he could do except go through the motions.

"Ned, you idiot!" Dr. Cameron Bishop struggled toward them and was held back by Pat and Alfaro. Sharkey moved between the man and his dying brother, jerking the gun to move the others next to the geneticist. Dr. Bishop ignored him, spitting the angry words out. "Can't you do anything right?"

Sharkey gave him a shove then and snarled, "Shut up, you. Mr. Bishop isn't the one who's been murdering folks and feeding them to his pet, now is he?"

"Murder? Are you crazy? You people killed two of my creations! And you call me a murderer?"

Alfaro had zip tied the man's hands now, and moved on to the other three, silent men. As he worked on them, more of Dr. Bishop's poison spewed out. "The work I was doing here was important! Do you cretins understand that? Ned had no business getting in my way!"

Lee shut the man out and focused on Ned Bishop. "We'll get you back to the boat, Ned, but Will isn't going to be happy with you." He infused his voice with a warm, light tone, but he knew it wasn't going to happen. In the dim light of the cave, he could tell that Ned's eyes had already begun to lose their luster.

"No, sir…" Bishop coughed, and blood frothed at his lips. "I won't make it…" His grip tightened on Lee's hand, as if he were steeling himself to live long enough to get the words out. "It's…" He coughed and panted, before he could finish it. "It's been an honor… serving under you, sir. I wish…" He coughed again, and the light in his eyes began to die. "Wish I could have made you proud…"

Lee bent closer to whisper in his ear as his breathing grew shallower, "You have been a fine officer, Ned. I wish I had a dozen like you. Believe me, you have made me proud." He watched the face transform in the instant between life and death, then held the hand tightly as it went limp and tried to slither from his grasp.

"Ned!" Dr. Bishop's voice again, still mocking. "For God's sake quit play-acting."

Lee carefully laid Bishop's hand across his chest and rose to his feet. "Play-acting?" He stalked closer to Dr. Bishop. "Your brother was worth a hundred of you, Dr. Bishop. And you killed him. I hope you're proud." He turned away, returning to Bishop's body. He hadn't lied to the man. He had been proud; it took courage to face the reality of what his family had done. He had faced it, and he had acted. Perhaps not the way Lee would have liked, but the sacrifice had been the making of him. He had made a choice to stand against evil, even though it had borne his brother's face. That couldn't have been easy, and in the end he had died for it.

Dr. Cameron Bishop's heavy breath turned Lee's gaze toward him again. The face had grown slack, the eyes looked shocked, but the words refused responsibility. "It's your fault. If you people had never come here, Ned would be alive."

"Oh, no, sir. You don't get to blame the skipper." Sharkey's voice was sharp and belligerent, but a look from Lee quieted him.

"Let it go, COB. We know who the good son was." The glance he shot Dr. Bishop was hot and contemptuous. If the man weren't already restrained and in custody, he could have hit him.

Riley had joined the party now, quieter than his wont, and subdued, a ghost of himself in the dim light. " There are three to four prisoners down that passageway, sir." He indicated a tunnel to the left. Lee nodded and wordlessly sent Alfaro to free them. Riley moved to help Ski lift Bishop's body. They would bring him back to the boat, not bury him here in this godforsaken place. He would want to go home. Lee knew that with chilling certainty. The least they could do, therefore was take him there, and bury him at sea with full honors.

"Let's go. The sooner we leave this place, the better."

The men nodded and followed him, dragging their silent prisoners with them.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Admiral Nelson moved quietly, gently about the bunk, carefully tending to the body. He hadn't liked Ned Bishop, and that bothered him now. He had tried to be fair to the man, tried to force a square peg into a round hole for John's sake, but Bishop just hadn't fit. An excellent officer, that couldn't be denied, but no matter how hard he had tried, he hadn't been a fit for Seaview.

 _Not your fault, Harry…_ The words slipped through his consciousness, breathed in John Phillips' voice, the voice of his conscience. But for once, John was wrong. It **was** his fault. If he had taken action at the beginning, as soon as he'd realized, Bishop would have been on another boat by now, excelling in the Navy, might even have had his own command… Instead, he lay cold and silent on the bunk as Nelson pinned his dolphins in place, aligned his ribbons in the correct order and threaded a rosary through his fingers.

Tomorrow they would commit this body to the deep. Today, the boat had taken on a funereal air; the men made their way through the corridors, speaking in hushed voices, as if loud noises could wake Ned now. Too little, too late. And they were all feeling the guilt of misjudging the man so seriously.

The door opened, and Lee slipped into the room, saluting the honor guard before closing the door behind him. "Dr. Bishop is in the brig, sir. Alfaro volunteered to take the first watch. If anything happens, I think I might look the other way, this time."

He meant if Alfaro gave in to temptation and slugged the loud mouthed geneticist. Nelson could understand that; he hadn't been five minutes in the prisoner's presence before he'd wanted to hit the man himself.

" _You shouldn't have been here! I planned everything! No one was supposed to bother me here, I could finish my work, and stun the world with my discoveries! It's your fault Ned is dead!"_

Nelson's lips curled in a snarl. "I think I might let you look the other way. Dr. Bishop isn't half the man his brother was…" Unspoken was the thought that it would have been better if Dr. Bishop were the one lying here, in gray, cold death.

"I guess we can't drop him overboard tomorrow…" Lee's words trailed into silence. He sighed, and drew a hand through his hair. "Will has looked over all the refugees. They're in fair physical condition. Most of them are from countries in South America. We'll call at Rio to set them ashore. I've had Sparks radio ahead to let them know we're coming."

Nelson nodded. It made sense that most of the prisoners Dr. Bishop had been holding as fodder for his sea creature were from the nearest land mass to the island. They had probably stumbled onto the place accidentally, and paid for it with their lives. At least, Seaview had managed to save a few. A pitiful few, judging by the few refugees they'd collected from the cells in the cave system...

He felt, rather than heard Lee's movement, and stepped aside as the captain slid into his place at the side of the bunk and looked down at the still, stony face of the man who lay there. "I misjudged him, sir. Badly."

"We all did, son." Nelson could admit that now, when it was too late to apologize. Part of what hurt so badly was that it was too late now to do anything about it. Ned Bishop would never get his second chance…

Lee reached into his pocket and pulled out something. "I thought I'd better show this to you privately." He opened his hand, and Nelson stared at the small cufflink that lay on his palm. The Greek letter gamma, in gold. "This is Dr. Bishop's. I think you know what it means."

Dr. Bishop had been creating his monsters for Dr. Gamma. Oh, yes, Nelson understood what it meant, and it explained a great deal. Lee had mentioned that the geneticist hadn't seemed at all surprised to see them… He had planned to kill Lee and feed the rest to the squid… Had he planned to somehow capture the boat? Had he expected his brother to help him?

Nelson looked down at the still, gray face. "He misjudged you, too, didn't he, lad?" Ned Bishop would never have helped his brother take Seaview and murder the crew. That was one certainty that Nelson had never surrendered to his dislike of the man; Ned Bishop had carried an aura of lonely despair that had put everyone off, but he would never have betrayed his country or this crew.

Lee sighed, his breath heavy. "I've written letters to his sister and his parents." He turned away, pacing toward the center of the room. "God, I hate writing those letters."

They were never easy to write; Telling a family that their beloved son or husband or brother was gone, that he had died in the line of duty was difficult. But Bishop hadn't been a beloved son or brother; that letter had to have been worse because there was no way to know how the recipients would react. Dr. Bishop had refused to accept responsibility for fratricide; he blamed the whole mess on Lee and Seaview. And he showed no remorse, no grief, nothing for the brother he had killed. No wonder - if that was what Ned had been facing all these years - that he was distant and unlikable. He had been fighting an uphill battle... And it also explained why Chip had handled him with the patience and gentleness so foreign to Bishop's own character. Chip had seen a kindred spirit, and had done his best for the man.

Nelson straightened Bishop's collar, and stepped back to look at his work. The second officer looked peaceful, somehow, everything in its place, neatly squared away. Relaxed in death, his face seemed younger, quieter, than it ever had in life. The lines in his brow had smoothed away, and the tension in his body had melted away. The admiral wished he had acted more quickly to get the man off his boat. On another boat, in another life, Bishop might have lived up to his potential, might have gained his own command... Might have come back to Seaview eventually with more experience and more confidence than he had had the first time... Instead, they would bury him in the morning... Such a waste...

But could he truly call it a waste when Bishop's selfless act had saved Lee's life? It was a question he didn't want to ask himself, a question he had wrestled with before during the Pem affair, during the Lura affair... How much would he be willing to sacrifice, if it saved Lee's life? How much could he admit to himself about how close, how much like a son Lee had become to him? He had accepted that while Lee held a special place in his heart as the son he'd never had, that the boy he had shielded from his father's anger, and watched grow into an admirable young man, the finest XO he had ever worked with also meant a great deal to him, though he would never show it...

But what about Bishop? He had been John's protege, and John had had great respect for him... Nelson had defended him when it was necessary, but he hadn't really cared... not until now... Not until Bishop had saved Lee's life. He sighed with regret for what might have been, accepting the responsibility for this lost life. Bishop had deserved better, but he had done his best, even here on a boat where no one really liked him. In the end he had proven his quality, and put them all to shame. Perhaps he had taught them a lesson, too...

Tonight, the men would be able to visit and pay their respects. Tomorrow, the funeral would help them find closure. Closure wouldn't involve violence toward Dr. Bishop, though several of the men, notably Francis, had expressed a wish to claim their pound of flesh in revenge for Ned's death. The admiral knew that was guilt talking, guilt and a new respect for a man they had discovered was better than they'd thought.

He turned away, giving Lee his full attention, waiting for a report on what they'd found. Lee didn't disappoint.

"We have his journals. He kept meticulous notes. All the formulae are there, everything he did, all his attempts. There were three creatures."

"Only one, now. We'll take care of it before we leave the area." Nelson hated to kill it, but it wasn't natural, and there was no way it could survive, now that its food source was cut off. It would be a mercy to kill it now.

He shuddered at the thought, and wondered why John had nothing to say now. He sometimes became frustrated at John's voice in his head, but in a very real way, it was a comfort that he could still hear his friend so clearly.

"We need to make this stick, sir. We need to put this bastard away." Lee's voice blazed through Nelson's thoughts; he was angry, but whether at himself or at Dr. Bishop, Nelson couldn't say.

"We will, son. We will. Ned won't die in vain, I promise you." His promises to Bishop to find him a boat, to get him a promotion to XO, were only so much air now, but Dr. Bishop would pay to the fullest extent of the law for what he had done. Nelson owed that, not just to Bishop, but to his crew, his boat, and his country. He turned back to the still form on the bunk. "Rest in peace, lad. We'll take care of the rest."


End file.
